


Once More From the Top

by madeofmemories, theMaskedMan, TheRealRyanMurphy



Series: Glee, But It's Good [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Ali Stroker as Artemis Abrams, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Female Artie Abrams, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Glee but if it was good, Ken Tanaka is gone we replaced him with Coach Shannon, M/M, Partial Canon Divergence, Season One Novelization, Slow Burn, Tyler Ford as Noah Puckerman, no adult storylines just the kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 147,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21740872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofmemories/pseuds/madeofmemories, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theMaskedMan/pseuds/theMaskedMan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealRyanMurphy/pseuds/TheRealRyanMurphy
Summary: Rachel Berry hates jocks almost as much as she hates cheerleaders.(A Glee rewrite that's more gay and has less Will Schuester)
Relationships: Emma Pillsbury/Will Schuester, Finn Hudson/Noah Puckerman, Quinn Fabray/Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray/Noah Puckerman, Rachel Berry & Kurt Hummel, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Glee, But It's Good [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566997
Comments: 182
Kudos: 292





	1. Just A Small Town Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came from a four hour conversation between two of the writers at 1 in the morning.
> 
> So you know how Glee has three writers? This fic has three writers. And like Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, and Ian Brennan, we don't talk to each other when we write these.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Rachel Berry hates jocks almost as much as she hates cheerleaders.

She can’t believe she’s spent the last two and a half hours of a Friday night sitting in cold bleachers, watching a bunch of helmet-wearing meatheads determined to smash the two brain cells between them out of existence. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and these are desperate times.

“TITANS, TITANS, T-I-T-A-N-S Yeah! Rah! Rah! Rah!” Her thoughts are interrupted by the inane chants of the Cheerios, who had captured the audience with the kinetic explosiveness of their halftime performance but are now reduced to trying to rally a crowd of a few dozen remaining supporters to urge on a team that’s losing by three touchdowns.

 _Serves them right._ Rachel can’t deny the cheer squad has talent - certainly more than the collection of neanderthals that they’re ostensibly there to support, who did nothing on the field to earn their spot at the top of McKinley’s food chain - but the smug visage of their captain, Quinn Fabray, who somehow manages to be an arrogant bitch straight out of a Taylor Swift song and the world’s most boringly sanctimonious virgin at the same time, has been haunting Rachel’s nightmares for years. Never has such a raging hypocrite been so rewarded just for looking like every guy’s dream girl and being kind of good - ok, very good - at the Stepford Wives version of gymnastics.

“Fourth down and five, 1:51 to go, last chance for the Titans.” The sound of a very bored announcer trickling through the crackly PA system snaps Rachel’s eyes back to the field. “Hudson takes the snap. Back to pass, fires complete to Puckerman, who is decked short of the sticks. The ball will go over on downs, and the McKinley Titans are going to drop this season opener to the Carmel Camels by a score of 38-17.”

 _That’s a polite way to say they got their asses kicked,_ Rachel thinks as she makes her way down to the field. She’s been dreading this all day but there was no way she sat through that pathetic display of failed masculinity for nothing.

As the clock hits zero, and the Titans and Cheerios begin to disperse to their respective locker rooms, Rachel takes a furtive glance to confirm that tyrannical cheer coach Sue Sylvester’s nowhere in sight. (The new director, Will Schuester, is supposed to be keeping her occupied right now. Rachel figures it’s fifty-fifty whether he's still alive.) Finding the sidelines appropriately free of brightly colored track suits, she jumps the barrier and steps onto the sideline.

“Attention, Cheerios!” she calls out, drawing snickers from the remaining football players and looks from the cheer squad that range from disinterested to murderous. But she can’t spend time worrying about that; she has a job to do, and as much as she wants to be anywhere else, her future might depend on whether she succeeds or not. “I’m Rachel Berry, and I’m the captain of the McKinley High School Glee Club.”

“We know who you are, trash queen.” Santana Lopez, Quinn’s second in command and a girl who thinks the first act of Mean Girls is aspirational, steps forward with a textbook sneer no doubt drilled into her by Lesbian George McArthur herself. “And I think I speak for all of us when I say that none of us are going to join your precious little Losers Club.”

“Now, now, Santana, no need for that.” Quinn steps forward, and her sickeningly insincere smile makes Rachel’s vision narrow and her blood boil. A predictable reaction, and so frustrating, but Quinn’s been able to get under her skin like no one else for as long as she can remember. “It’s not Rachel’s fault her only talent gets her stuck in a club with a bunch of friendless apostates with no future. Why don’t we hear her out?”

Rachel can’t tell if the Catholic superiority complex or the backhanded compliment is more infuriating, but she isn’t going to pass up an invitation to make her pitch, even a sarcastic one. “Thank you, Quinn. I’d like to issue an official invitation to any member of the Cheerios interested in expanding their creative horizons to audition for McKinley High’s newly-reformed Glee Club, this Friday at-”

She hears the laughter before she processes the impact of the gatorade crate being emptied over her head. It’s pathetic, really. Two dozen teenagers in size zero red jumpsuits, gleefully celebrating the humiliation of a girl who's going to get farther in life than any of them. But with her hair plastered to her face, her body temperature dropping, and the smell of the vilest drink ever devised by mankind enveloping her senses, Rachel isn’t in any position to appreciate the irony.

“Each and every one of you is going to regret that. I swear it,” she sputters, which only makes the Cheerios laugh harder as they prance off to their locker room. _Whatever._ They’re insignificant regardless. There’s only one person she needs to get revenge on. There has only ever been one person. She locks eyes with Quinn.

“You’d better enjoy it while it lasts, Fabray. One day, when your quarterback boyfriend drops you for someone who can afford more expensive cosmetic surgery, and you’re stuck raising some nobody’s kids in this dead end of a town with the Catechism as your only friend, I’ll be in the greatest city in the world, sparing you not a single thought.”

Quinn’s expression hardens, her hazel-green eyes shining with a dangerous magnetism. “You know, it’s funny. I actually have a couple girls with some serious pipes. I could have convinced them to help you out. But given your disappointing approach to negotiation, I don’t think I will.”

 _Yeah, because having your lackeys assault me with energy drinks is a great way to establish good faith bargaining,_ Rachel thinks, but the sensory overload of the gatorade attack and the chilling reverberations of Quinn’s voice leave her unable to muster any more words. Finally breaking off her signature icy glare, Quinn turns away with her patented hair flip; Rachel can never decide if it's the sixteenth or seventeenth most annoying thing about her. (She keeps a list; it's constantly in flux.) With one last glance over her shoulder, Quinn delivers her parting shot.

“You know, Berry, you should be careful how you treat people. It would be a pity to waste that pretty little voice of yours on such a regrettable personality.”

With that, the Cheerios captain disappears into the night, with Rachel’s head left spinning from the cold, the cumulative insults, and the fact that, maybe, just a little, from a certain point of view, Quinn Fabray had just given her a compliment. Kind of. _God,_ she thinks. _Having a nemesis is exhausting._

It’s not like there isn't anything to like about Quinn. Rachel couldn't care less what bullshit social hierarchies deem to be cool or uncool - talent is talent, and Quinn has been doing perfectly balanced cartwheels since she could walk, with back flips and the ability to fold herself into a pretzel following shortly after. She works her ass off to stay in the kind of shape her eldritch monster of a coach demands, and she commands the Cheerios with the kind of natural charisma of someone who was born to take charge of a room.

As much as Rachel hates to admit it, she's beautiful too. Sure, Quinn’s constantly aware of it and spends ridiculous amounts of money to optimize it, but there’s a real skill to the way she always gets her hair to frame her face perfectly, the way her deceptively slim frame is powered by seriously well-developed muscles, and a striking natural beauty to those eyes, which have a piercing quality that seems to freeze people in their tracks. Just like Medusa.

And that’s the thing, really. For all that Rachel knows that she can be a bit on the abrasive side, it’s seriously rich for Quinn goddamn Fabray to be criticizing her personality. It’s not her fault that the school worships her for her talents, but it’s definitely her fault that she acts like being the center of attention is her birthright and uses her social capital to punch down on everyone who can’t stand up to her. Not to mention how badly she treats that pathetic puppy dog of a quarterback, who will probably end up in a seminary by the time Quinn’s done with him. The Celibacy Club she runs makes the Mormon Church look like a bunch of hippies.

Rachel does her best to dislodge Quinn from her thoughts, but as she makes her way toward the field gates, right by the boys’ locker room, which has surely cleared out by now, the depth of her failure begins to sink in. The Glee Club needs to be able to field a roster of ten in order to compete at sectionals. Including Rachel, McKinley has four, and reinforcements are nowhere in sight. Mr. Schuester had promised to try to recruit the football team earlier, and Rachel wouldn't be surprised if his recruiting pitch went worse than hers did. The other three members had tried the AV Club, the nerds at the school paper, and the anime club. All had gone bust. This had been their last best chance, and it had been no chance at all.

Once more, Quinn’s arrogant smirk enters her mind unbidden, gloating at her futility. Just like it has been ever since they were kids…

_“I can't fight this feeling any longer  
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow  
What started out as friendship has grown stronger  
I only wish I had the strength to let it show”_

The sound freezes Rachel dead in her tracks. The voice is coming from the team locker room, piercing through a night so silent it seems almost ghostly. It’s loud - not only loud, but clear, and enunciated well enough that Rachel can make out every lyric of REO Speedwagon. And it's beautiful. Unpolished, rough around the edges, and absolutely beautiful, immersed in the sheer freedom of whoever’s in there, thinking they’re singing only to God and themselves. Whoever he is, Rachel knows she’s just been thrown a lifeline. She pulls her phone from her still damp jacket pocket and shoots a text to her dads. She’s going to be getting home a little late.

When he finally emerges, Rachel’s jaw drops.

Finn Hudson? The golden boy quarterback? Quinn’s arm candy accessory to her ten year master plan to win Prom Queen? There’s no way a hunk like that sounds that good without any training.

Fortunately, none of this is said out loud, but the football captain’s caught her staring. Rachel braces herself for another round of verbal abuse, but the tension fizzles when she realizes the expression on his face is, for some reason, one of utter confusion. After several awkward beats too many, he finally opens his mouth.

“I thought you weren’t into guys.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I’m really flattered, and I’m not saying I’m not used to this, it’s just, I know you know I have a girlfriend. And I always thought we were on different teams, anyway. Cause you know, with how you’re obsessed with Quinn. But I guess maybe you’re bi? Which is totally cool. I know the other guys are assholes about it, but I think it’s pretty cool that you get to have more options. Hey, you look cold. You need a ride home?”

“Ok, enough,” Rachel interjects, her brain scrambling to make sense of everything that's just been thrown at her. “First of all, I’m not gay or bi. I’m straight. And even if I was attracted to girls, never in a million years would one of those girls be Quinn Fabray. You can keep her. And second, I’m not here to proposition you, you sorry excuse for a misogynist. I’m here to recruit you.”

Finn’s frown deepens, somehow making him look even more confused than before. “Recruit me to what? The only thing you do is that singing thing. Glee, or whatever.”

“Yes, genius. I’m here, at midnight on a Friday, sacrificing my precious rehearsal time to watch every snap of that deeply boring and confusing sport and having been assaulted by your satanic girlfriend and her hive of breakfast cereal pun-based freaks, because I need you to join Glee.”

He smiles, which is actually a nice surprise. At least this one’s too oblivious to be cruel, and it draws attention to the fact that he’s naturally handsome in a way that jocks typically aren’t. “Look, I wish I could help you out. You seem nice.” Yeah. Oblivious is the right word. “But Mr. Schue already came by to recruit us. We told him it would be pretty awkward to join up with the kids we’re always throwing slushies at. Or at least that’s what I said. The others called him a word that’s really bad, cause it implies he’s gay and that's a bad thing. ”

“Slur, Finn. They used a slur.”

“Yeah, that’s the word! I wish I could tell them not to do that, but Puck says it’s not in the Bro Code.” Oh god. She never realized football did its damage this quickly. “But anyway, even if I could, I don’t know what you’d do with me, anyway. I can’t sing.”

Rachel sighs and waits. One beat. Two beats. And the penny drops.

“Oh, god, you heard me?”

“I did. Your projection is excellent. And it's not the only thing that is.” God, this is pointless. There's no way she's going to convince him. But she’s already here, and he had sounded so damn good. She’s worth less than nothing if she goes down without one more try.

“I know you don’t need this. I know you have no reason to want this. I know I’m asking you to throw away the thing that’s made you the most popular guy in this godforsaken town, even if you are shaving a couple years off your life-span every time you put on those silly, oversized shoulder-pads. But we need you Finn. Hell, I’ll never admit I said this, but I need you. I can’t get to New York if I can’t actually use my voice for anything, and that only happens if the Glee Club gets off the ground. If you join, it would prove that the Glee Club isn’t just for those of us on the bottom; it would encourage so many more kids who are talented in multiple ways to try out. And more than numbers, we need a male lead, someone whose voice is strong enough to match up with mine. And I know that voice is yours. Please, Finn. Don’t deny your gifts just because it’s inconvenient to have them.”

Finn turns silent for what feels like an eternity. Rachel waits for him to laugh at her, and she won’t even blame him. If someone had given her that kind of insufferable plea, she would have done the same.

Instead, he says, “Wow. That was a really good speech.”

This can’t be happening. “But?”

“But Coach Shannon would kill me if I quit, and then Puck would probably kill me again. I can’t abandon my bros. Even if they are kind of jerks sometimes”

And there it is. Such a waste, to turn such a decent-seeming guy into a superstar athlete. McKinley’s economies of cruelty have rotted his brain, and the damage has nothing to do with his limited vocabulary.

“Fine. If that’s your decision, my business here is done. Good night.” Rachel tries to keep her voice steady, but the tears appearing unbidden at the corners of her eyes make it impossible. _God, I really am pathetic._ She turns as quickly as possible and takes two large strides towards the exit. This has been a really bad day, and she needs it to be over.

“Wait, stop! It’s really nothing personal, alright? I just have too much going on to be able to do something like that on a whim, you know? I mean, even if I could take that hit to my reputation, I can’t really commit to learning a whole new skill when I’m on the verge of getting academic probation if I fail Spanish.”

Rachel freezes. There’s the opportunity. It’s conniving and underhanded as hell, but she has no choice. Sincerity has failed. If she has to manipulate her way to New York, so be it. She slowly turns around.

“Spanish, huh? You know, Mr. Schue is infamous for giving extra credit to people who join his extracurriculars. A lot of extra credit.”

His eyes widen, which is exactly what she was looking for. Thank God being a quarterback doesn’t come with a minimum brain cell requirement. The night’s quickly turning in her favor; it’s time to drive in the final nail. “So really, the Glee Club is the only way to make sure you stay on the team. Sure, your reputation will take a hit. But you won’t lose your chance at a scholarship. You’ll have an excuse to do something you’re actually really good at, and no one will have to know that you actually enjoy it. Everything comes up roses.”

She knows she’s won before she even finishes. Of course, she’ll have to take additional steps to magic this completely made up extra credit into existence. But manipulating Will Schuester will be one of the easier things she has to do this week.

As he mulls over the offer, Rachel can practically see his brain trying to make the calculations. It's honestly a little endearing. And then he speaks the words she knew were coming, the words that maybe, just maybe, are about to change her life.

“I’m in.”

***

  
Kurt Hummel is used to carrying the burden of art alone. Sharing it with Rachel Berry makes him want more than anything to shoulder it himself again.

“Hi, everyone! I just want to say how excited I am to welcome you all to the 2009-2010 season of the William McKinley High Glee Club. My name is Rachel Berry, and I’ll be your captain on this journey.” The painfully-rehearsed delivery might have been cute, if it didn’t come from a girl who has been an exhausting constant in all of their small-town lives since birth.

“Rachel, we know who you are.” Mercedes Jones, a powerhouse vocalist and one of the few friends Kurt can count on in this dead-end town, somehow looks even more bored than he feels. “And it’s not a journey if we can’t even get off the ground. Look around, ‘Captain.’ We’re six members short. Even if we somehow got our chemistry together, no one else is walking through that door.”

“Hi guys!” Finn Hudson, indeed, walks through the door.

Oh dear. Kurt only humored Rachel when he agreed to try to recruit the anime club - he knew she was taking on the worst job of all in trying to break up the Cheerio-Titan alliance that rules the school with an iron fist. He knew he wouldn’t succeed, but he had been even more certain that Rachel wouldn’t either. But Mr. Schue came back from football practice with a null result and no indication that any of them might change their mind. Which meant Rachel went to the game in a desperate attempt to snag a few D-list cheerleaders, and instead managed to reel in the single most popular teenage boy in Lima, Ohio. And given what the football team has put him through since they were old enough to understand that society will affirm their cruelty as long as he’s on the other side of it, this is about the worst possible outcome he could have imagined.

Rachel, as always, is completely failing to read the room.

“Quite the contrary, Mercedes. This is Finn Hudson, quarterback of the McKinley Titans, who I have successfully recruited to be my male lead - and given his considerable influence on the social dynamics of this school, it’s only a matter of time before the rest of McKinley is begging us to let them audition.” The beaming smile that follows this is sickeningly smug, but also somehow so achingly sincere that it’s downright heartbreaking.

“Bit presumptuous to declare him the male lead before any of us hear him sing, isn’t it?” Kurt knows this isn’t a battle worth fighting, but sometimes it’s just impossible to be in a room with Rachel Berry and not end up indulging in confrontational instincts.

“Well, as someone who has heard Finn sing, I think it’s anything but. He has the voice, he has the charisma, has the physicality to be a commanding stage presence. He’s exactly the kind of piece we’ve been missing to make us a viable choir.”

“Hey, Rachel?” The quarterback speaks, and Kurt’s taken aback by the gentleness in his voice. Not that it’s ever done a damn thing for him since his football teammates make a habit of throwing him into dumpsters without any resistance from their precious quarterback. Even if Finn does always offer to hold his jacket first.

“Look, I don’t know what you mean by charisma or physicality, but you should know that I can’t dance. And I’m not saying that in the same way that I said I can’t sing. My mom refused to let me dance at my cousin’s wedding. She said it was a safety hazard.”

“Well, isn’t this a refreshing dose of humility.” Kurt steps forward and offers a handshake. Might as well break the new kid into the real world before Rachel Berry spends too much time with him. “I’m Kurt Hummel. This is Mercedes Jones and Artemis Abrahams. I see you’ve already met Rachel Berry. And we are prospective members of the McKinley High School Glee Club.”

“Don’t let Rachel make you think this is her club.” Mercedes gives Finn her best stare down. “It’s my voice as much as hers that you’ll have to keep up with. If you can do that, you’ll be golden.”

“My friends call me Artie.” The reliable guitarist, refreshingly competent harmonist, and Kurt’s frequent partner in victimization pushes her wheelchair forward. “But you can start on a probationary basis, on the condition that you cease your participation in the slushie squads.”

Finn nods intensely. “I can do that.” He surveys the choir room, and when their eyes meet, Kurt thinks they contain something like remorse. “And I’m really sorry for what the guys have been doing to you. It’s not cool.”

There’s no way on Earth that apology should have sounded sincere. But something about the delivery, such softness coming from such a gargantuan frame, communicates such incredible earnestness that Kurt can’t help but believe it, at least a little.

Still, at McKinley High, lowering one’s guard too easily is a dangerous mistake. Finn will have to be kept at a distance, and that means he can’t be handed the male lead without a fight.

“Look, as much as I appreciate Rachel’s enthusiasm, and as much as we’re all excited to have fresh blood in the Glee Club, the actual process for determining your role is a little more professional than that. You may well be good enough to be a male lead, but you’ll have to prove that you can displace me first.”

“Well, that is true, in that it will take time for all of us to solidify our teamwork. But you won’t actually have any competition for the lead. Kurt has a lovely voice, but he can’t actually be the centerpiece of a show choir.”

The fact that it is, in a certain sense, completely true only makes Kurt’s anger more impossible to contain. Leave it to a girl with two gay dads and the biggest closeted denial-crush in history to be homophobic, but the girl has learned ruthlessness with the best of them. Most days Kurt’s capable of putting up with it without a fight. This is not one of those days.

“Oh, you can just say it’s because I’m gay Rachel. Listen, I know I’m not a conventional lead and won’t appeal to the real Blue Collar Americans of this Midwestern nowhere, but it’s not like this club can be any further down the bottom of the ladder than we already are. What are they going to do? Throw more slushies at us?”

“Kurt, Kurt, it’s not like that all!” Rachel, unlike Finn, is constitutionally incapable of communicating sincerity. “It’s not because you’re attracted to boys. It’s because you’re a countertenor.”

He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised. The logic checks out, because that’s what it always is with Rachel Berry - a series of calculations and optimizations designed to get her away from all the losers she has no time for.

“Look,” he sighs, flipping his green plaid scarf from one shoulder to the other. “I’m not saying we’re going to give Finn any high harmonies. I’m certainly not asking to have any duets of love songs with you, but the rest of us should at least have the opportunity to see what Mr. Finn Hudson brings to the table.”

“You’re absolutely right Kurt. And in fact, Finn has taken the liberty of preparing a showcase for what the five of us can achieve together. Finn, take it away!”

Finn smiles nervously. “So first of all, I just want to apologize again for the way the team has treated you, all of you. I know you have every right to be wary of me, and that I haven’t exactly stood up for you when some of the football guys were pushing you around just for who you are. So however long it takes for you to trust me, just know that you’re all on my team now. And I’m gonna have your backs, no matter what.”

Well, then. This one might just be the real deal. As Kurt takes in the expressions of his teammates, he feels the collective realization pass through the room that this kind of energy, totally lacking in any kind of cynicism, is something they haven’t felt for a long, long time.

“Yeah, so, I have a single mom,” Finn continues. “And when I was growing up, she dated this guy Darren, who would paint our lawn, and we really kind of bonded; it was super sad when he left. But his favorite band was Journey and this is a song we used to sing together.”

It’s a cliche, to be sure, but to be honest, it’s kind of sweet that this jock’s first move is the quintessentially sentimental dad rock song. And it’s ubiquitous enough that, even with just the five of them, they’ll have no problems performing it cold.

Finn steps into line, Rachel’s signature narcissistic smile plastered across her face, Mercedes and Artie’s skepticism slowly being overtaken by genuine hope. It’s still a million-to-one shot, and Kurt still doesn’t know quite how to feel about any of it, but there’s nothing left but to take the leap.

The lights dim. The band, infinite in their patience, finally ready their instruments. Kurt and his friends effortlessly launch into their acapella harmonies, the result of years worth of futile repetition in the pursuit of impossible dreams. And then Finn Hudson steps forward, carrying himself with a confidence that has never been seen on the football field, and with an unpolished but legitimately beautiful tenor, begins the verse that might just change all of their lives.

_“Just a small town-girl… “_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Tina is no longer part of the original six. She will appear in a later wave of Glee kids.
> 
> We didn't feel comfortable with the casting of an able-bodied person (Kevin McHale) for Artie so now Artie is played by Ali Stroker, who actually was on the show for one episode due to being a runner-up on The Glee Project. This is why Artie is now a girl. Don't worry Kevin McHale fans, he'll still be in this rewrite series. Somewhere.
> 
> Ken Tanaka has already been replaced by Coach Shannon.


	2. Showmance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: McKinley's Glee Club reformed under the direction of Will Schuester. Rachel tried to recruit the Cheerios but that ended up being a total disaster. It's cool though because she heard Finn Hudson sing in the shower and he's actually really good. She successfully recruits him and now the Glee Club has enough members to be a real thing.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the nice comments! Just in case people were wondering, yes we're rewriting all of the season 1 episodes in order (which is why there are 22 chapters).
> 
> Tags and summaries will let you guys know of any big changes from canon but we're pretty sure the only big thing we haven't mentioned yet is that Will's entire storyline with Terri happened before the events of this story. So they're already divorced.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Rachel Berry never knew dad rock could make her feel so alive.

But as she sweeps across the stage, trading verses of _Don’t Stop Believin’_ with the most popular boy in school, she can’t help but wonder if this is how all her hard work will be rewarded.

She knew Finn Hudson had _It_ the moment she heard him sing REO Speedwagon in the shower, but she wasn’t prepared for how perfectly he filled the hole that has been missing in her heart for as long as she can remember.

That hole, of course, is that of a male lead capable of elevating her to a high school show choir legend and putting her on the path to New York and her destiny. But she can’t deny that, future considerations aside, this is also really fun.

As Artie’s guitar solo reaches its crescendo, the five of them launch into a final chorus with more power than Rachel has ever been a part of onstage. Finn’s voice blends perfectly with hers as they soar over Kurt, Mercedes, and Artie’s harmonies. And as the five of them come together for the final exclamation point, Rachel’s heart soars in a way she never knew it was capable of.

_“Don’t Stop!”_

The music comes to a thunderous conclusion, the five of them posing triumphantly as if they had just brought the house down at Madison Square Garden.

“Alright, that’s better!” Mr. Schuester stands from his director’s chair at the back of the choir room. “The fifteenth time really was the charm.”

“Mr. Schue, please don’t make us do it again.” Mercedes, a girl who Rachel fully recognizes is almost as talented as she is, and likely would have been singing lead if there were more than five of them, is struggling to catch her breath. “Look, I know you don’t want to use me for runs until we have enough people to fill out the backing vocal but there are only so many times I can sing the same four chords before I lose my mind. And we hit that limit an hour ago.”

“Not to worry, Mercedes. I know the first practice of the year is always rough but if we can do what we just did there at the assembly and get ourselves a full roster, we’ll be well on our way to winning Sectionals. Remember,” he points to the whiteboard, where a single word’s written and underlined, “the theme of the week is ‘PERSISTENCE.’ If you all believe in yourselves and each other, I have no doubt you will soon be reaping the reward for all of this hard work.”

Rachel can’t agree more. Sure, a Will Schuester motivational speech isn’t the most exhilarating thing in the world. But he has the pedigree, as the captain of the 1993 Show Choir National Champions, that’s necessary to help them reach their potential, and his choice to make her captain clearly means he has a good eye for talent. And yes, he’s now a divorcee who peaked in high school and never left his hometown, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong about her. Them. Whatever.

“Wait, wait. What assembly?” Finn looks up with fear in his eyes. “I just figured out how to walk and sing at the same time!”

“And I’m concerned that if we perform something so earnest and sincere, they’ll stop with the slushies and upgrade to good old fashioned rocks,” adds Kurt, whose concern over aesthetics would be a little more convincing if he hadn’t come to school wearing a bright pink collared shirt with white checkered pants. Which is probably one of his more understated ensembles.

“Yeah. If we really want to do something to win recruits, we need something modern.” Artie sweeps her long blonde hair to the side and pushes her glasses up her nose, which she always does when she makes a pitch. “Something provocative, but also of the times, that really sells the artistic diversity of what we do here.”

“For the last time, Artie,” Mercedes sighs, “We love you, but you can’t do Kanye West.”

“Hmph. You people never let me have any fun.”

Rachel knows from experience that Artie’s about as good of a rapper as the club can hope to get, frankly, but the girl who unironically loves Vanilla Ice also gives her an idea.

“Artie’s right.”

“Excuse me?” Mercedes and Kurt respond at the same time.

“Thank you, Rachel. I knew you’d understand.”

“No, not about Kanye West, silly. About the audience. The show choir judges will care about the artistic merits of our performance, but the students of McKinley High couldn’t tell Barbra Streisand from a valley girl at a karaoke bar. The only way to get people to join is if we give them what they want.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “And what is it they want, Rachel?”

“Who are the most popular kids in school who also perform? The Cheerios. And as much as their sainted captain Quinn Fabray loves to deny it, no one watches them or envies them for their considerable athletic ability. It’s all sex appeal.”

“Wow, those are two words that I never wanted to hear coming from your mouth,” mutters Kurt, who, again, really has no right to be judging anyone else for being forward. Besides, Rachel knows no boy at McKinley is ever going to be interested her - if she wants a worthy romantic partner, she’ll have to get to a city with more discerning taste. But she knows that however much it disadvantages her at present, she’ll have to find a way to work around it. “Look, I’m not ignoring our limitations in this regard, but we don’t have to change we who are. We just have to convince them that we have.”

“Well, the Celibacy Club’s motto is ‘It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing.’” The room goes dead silent as everyone’s head turns on a swivel toward Finn. “What? I think Rachel’s onto something.”

“You’re a member of the Celibacy Club?” Mercedes looks as if she doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Hudson.”

Finn shrugs. “I mean, I don’t really understand all that stuff Quinn says about how if the balloon pops, the noise makes the angels cry. It’s just the only place I really get to spend time with her; she’s way too busy with the Cheerios to go on dates.”

“Thank you, Finn, though I would appreciate if you didn’t mention the name of that… organization in this room. The point is that we need a song that doesn’t sell who we are, but who they would want us to be. Something that will completely reorientate their expectations.”

“The problem with that, Rachel,” says Kurt, “is that we don’t know any songs like that.”

“What do you mean, Kurt? Of course we do.”

“It doesn’t work if it’s a showtune.”

"Oh." Still, there has to be something they can do. “I could peruse the Billboard charts of the last few decades and select an appropriately risque number.” The look on her fellow members' faces confirms that this suggestion is going over as well as she feared.

“Or, alternatively, you could ask me for help.” Rachel turns towards Artie, who has a gleam in her eye that’s somewhat terrifying. “After all, I am this club’s aficionado in all things down and dirty.”

“Ok, yes, you can pick the song, just please never say that again.” This is the double-edged sword with Artie. Her harmonies are beautiful, and her strong lower register helps compensate for the fact that, before Finn, their only boy was a countertenor. And her guitar skills give the club a unique element that will surely give them an edge in competition down the road. But Artie also has… vision, and putting her in charge of anything always leads to a strange result. Though, isn’t that exactly what they need? If Rachel’s asking her teammates to trust her voice to carry them to victory, it’s only fair she gives their talents the same faith. “I trust you, Artemis.”

Artie grins, and Rachel swears she sees her life flash before her eyes. “Means a lot, Rachel. Now, have any of you ever heard the classic 1987 single _Push It_ by Salt-n-Pepa?”

***

“Well, that was a complete and utter disaster.” As Kurt walks with Rachel back to their lockers from Principal Figgins’ office, he can’t help but marvel at how this downtrodden girl is a completely different person from the one who had looked like a fifteenth consecutive run-through of a song she didn’t even like was her own personal paradise just one day before. Not to mention the person who had just poured every ounce of deeply unsexy energy she has in her into a performance of Salt-n-Pepa in front of a thousand high schoolers.

“If it makes you feel any better Rachel, you were right about sex appeal. And I think we both did an admirable job at communicating experiences that are fundamentally alien to us. The standing ovation speaks for itself.”

Rachel’s not in the mood to be cheered up. “The setlist of _pre-approved Christian songs_ from Principal Figgins and Coach Sylvester also speaks for itself, as does the fact that I’ve had my solo in the only song in our repertoire taken away in an entirely arbitrary act of punishment and with it any chance at victory for Sectionals.”

If there’s ever a person who makes it more difficult to sympathize with them, Kurt hopes he never has to meet them. “So much for all the trust you have in us, then.”

“It’s not that. I know Mercedes is a perfectly… adequate replacement. But recruiting Finn was supposed to be the chemistry boost that would put my star power over the top, and now it’s all for nothing.”

Somehow, hearing Rachel condescendingly dismiss his friend’s talents enrages him far more than any of the times she wrote him off. “Rachel, there are songs that Mercedes sings perfectly that you couldn’t pull off if you were possessed by Barbra herself. You don’t have to respect me, but you do have to respect her. And I know this isn’t what you envisioned, but if this club has any chance of succeeding, you’re going to have to accept the fact that you’re not the only diva.”

Rachel freezes in her tracks. “Well, if that’s how you feel, Kurt, I’m sure Mercedes could use your help in figuring out the setlist for Sectionals.”

Kurt is about to respond, because this is ridiculous even for Rachel, when he sees that she’s no longer looking at him, her eyes instead fixed on the couple engaged in tense conversion in front of the lockers: Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray.

 _Nope. Staying away from that._ It’s obvious from the way she carries herself onstage that Rachel is enchanted by Finn, or at least by the idea of having an Astaire to her Rodgers. (Though that's a poor analogy, as Finn’s warnings about his lack of motor skills have proved highly prophetic. He's already tripped over all of them at least once, and poor Artie has been forced to swerve several times to keep from running him over.) But she's also been obsessed with hating Quinn for as long Kurt can remember, which is much longer than he'd like. He can see the jealousy, insecurity, and self-loathing in her eyes as clearly as he can see that she doesn’t know where any of it is really directed.

But that is so far from his problem, and he has more than enough on his plate to deal with. So he turns and walks back toward the choir room as quickly as possible, trying to ignore the cheerleader’s admonitions of her class traitor boyfriend. It’s easy to judge Rachel, and she mostly deserves it, but as much as he hates to admit it, the two of them have more than an affinity for musical theater in common. He may have found himself well before her, if she ever even will, but coming out at school, where the only calculation had been whether to bear the inevitable abuse, was one thing. Coming out at home, when there's no way to know what'll happen, is a different kind of terror.

He finds Mercedes in the choir room, finishing her homework and looking thoroughly irritated, which is entirely justified.

When she looks up and sees him, though, her smile returns. “Kurt. Thank god, someone I can actually talk to.”

“You too, huh?” Kurt replies with a grin. “When we signed up for show choir, we knew we would have to deal with Rachel Berry.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect her to get like this so fast. I didn’t expect any of this to get like this. And now the sky’s supposed to be falling because we have to sing Christian songs, even though our recruitment stunt, which was her idea in the first place, was a total success, and I have the exact repertoire and the perfect voice to make this style work. But Rachel doesn’t get the solo, so the rest of us have to act like everything has gone horribly wrong?”

“Mercedes, you’re absolutely right, and I do look forward to having you front and center where you belong for a change. But if you’re waiting for Rachel Berry to take one for the team, you’ll be waiting forever.”

“Damn right. That girl is gonna put us all in the ground if it gets her into that knock-off Julliard.” She leans over and bumps Kurt’s shoulder, “But enough about Rachel Berry. What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

Kurt freezes. He thought he was ready. He needs to be ready. He can’t make this decision without the guidance of the one close friend he has in this school. But with so much frustration in the room, he can’t bring himself to make the mood even heavier.

“Oh, nothing serious. I just thought maybe we could practice some runs together.” One harmless lie won’t make a difference now. Soon, one way or another, the choice will be made.

Mercedes grins and stands up, offering him her hand. “Kurt Hummel, you just made my day.”

***

“This meeting of the Celibacy Club will now commence. Owing to a regrettable constitutional clause that requires us to let in everyone who wants to join, today we welcome Miss Rachel Berry.”

 _This is the worst decision I’ve ever made._ Trying to recruit the Cheerios was one thing, but Rachel can’t believe she's just willingly entered a room where the highest authority is Quinn Fabray. Although she’s sitting all the way on the opposite side of the large roundtable, it feels like Quinn’s viper-like eyes are boring holes straight through her.

But she needs to do this. Ever since she overhead Finn standing up to Quinn in front of the lockers and refusing to quit Glee Club, she's been overcome with a feeling so intense she doesn’t know what to do with it. Seeing those two together just feels wrong in a way nothing else ever has before, and not just because she knows Quinn treats him badly, but because… well, she doesn’t really know why, except that she must have a crush on Finn. And why wouldn’t she? He has an objectively impressive body, a lovely and competent voice. He’s actually really nice, and performing with him feels as good as anything ever has.

She tried talking about it to the guidance counselor Emma Pillsbury, but was just been given a pamphlet titled _So You’re A Hypergamous Bitch?_ So once again, she’s desperate enough to turn to the very source of all her distress.

“Um, where are the boys?” She could really use Finn’s reassuring presence right now.

“Down the hall. First we separate, then we come together to share our faith.” The corner of Quinn’s lips turns slightly upward in one of those almost smiles that Rachel finds so singularly aggravating. “Though what interest a barely-observant Jewish girl could have in the teachings of purity and virtue bestowed by our universal Catholic church is escaping me at the moment.”

Rachel straightens up and does her best to meet Quinn’s steely gaze. “First of all, the same bylaws that won’t let you kick me out because you hate me also won’t let you kick me out because I’m Jewish. All school clubs have to be interfaith organizations. And second, your mission is to help teenagers figure out how to deal with their… feelings, right? So if I don’t find what I’m looking for here, you must not be very good at your job.”

Quinn’s smile only grows wider, which would have been nice if Quinn smiling didn't normally correspond to other people’s suffering. “Feelings, huh? Well, if you think you’re going to get advice from me on how to steal my boyfriend, I have some bad news for you, darling. But I’m not so cruel as to let a girl doomed to a lifetime without love leave this service without any recourse. So here’s what you’re going to do.”

Rachel wants to shoot back that there’s no way Quinn has ever experienced with Finn what she has when they performed together. That there’s infinitely more chemistry in making art with someone than there is in doing a dance routine with a bunch of other girls while your boyfriend gets smashed into the ground by a bunch of other boys behind you. But maintaining eye contact with Quinn for too long is giving her vertigo, and she’s too disoriented to deliver a good comeback.

“You’re going to take your feelings,” Quinn continues, “About Finn. About me. About yourself. And you’re going to put those feelings into tiny boxes. And you’re going to put those tiny boxes into a bigger box. And you’re going to bury that box inside your mind so deep that you won't just be unable to find it again; you’ll forget it ever existed. And then you can go about your life, singing your pretty songs, getting rejected by your rival divas because all of them are gay, and you’ll have exactly the kind of life you were always meant to have.”

Rachel searches Quinn’s eyes for the sadistic mirth that always characterizes her putdowns, and is disconcerted to find that there is none. The girl’s answer is completely sincere, and Quinn Fabray is _never _sincere.__

“You can’t be serious. That isn’t a remotely healthy way to approach anything.”

“Healthy isn’t the point. It works.”

“You sound like you know from experience.”

Quinn’s expression turns cold so quickly that Rachel practically feels the room temperature drop. “Not that it’s any of your business anyway, but this isn’t about any of our small little lives. This is about doing what we have to so that our neighbors don’t suffer for our sins. Not that I should expect someone with ambition as unearned as yours to understand obligation.”

Rachel’s used to the creatively verbose insults but this feels worse. There’s real anger in her voice, and Rachel can’t figure out where it’s coming from. At least with the one note bullies on the football team, or even the rank and file of the Cheerios, Rachel always knew where she stood. What's always been so painful about the way Quinn hates her is that, if she squints, Rachel can almost see the alternate universe where they might have been friends.

“Not to interrupt this two minute hate session, but the boys should be coming over shortly,” says Santana, reminding Rachel that the other girls have been in the room this whole time.

Rachel stands up. “Well, I should get going then. Bylaws or no bylaws, I’m obviously not welcome here.”

“Aw, is the insecure little drama queen too much of a coward to talk about sex while her crush is in the room?” Santana says with a smirk, receiving laughter from the other Cheerios and a high-five from Brittany Pierce, the other half of her double act.

Rachel manages a smile; she has to at least get the last word. “I’d be happy to, Santana, but if I stay I think your captain should know that I’m going to tell the boys what contraception is.”

Quinn stands up so fast she knocks her chair over. “Get. Out.”

***

“That’s it! You got it!” Rachel beams across the room at Finn, who’s progressing faster than she ever could have imagined.

“Really, that was ok?” Finn smiles back at her shyly and Rachel feels her heart skip a beat. She never knew having someone actually like her could feel this amazing,

“Yeah, it’s the holy grail for a baritenor.” She shifts her hands on the piano keys. “Alright, I’ll start at the bottom and we’ll go up higher?”

“Actually, can we take a break for a bit? Singing kind of makes me hungry.”

Rachel grins, rising and gesturing over to the side of the stage where she had brought three baskets full of food in the hope that this very contingency might arise. “Luckily, I prepared for that. Wanna sit?”

“Sure.”

They sit cross legged on the edge of the stage, pouring punch into plastic cups and unwrapping sandwiches, all of which they’re definitely not allowed to have in the school auditorium after hours. But Finn had asked her to help him practice, and even if she can’t be there for him in the school’s annual concert, there’s no way she was going to turn down a chance to mold her male lead into a true superstar. Especially since she has a crush on him.

“Thanks for asking me to help you practice, Finn. I know I can be a bit intense, but this really means a lot to me.”

“Well, it’s the only way for me to get good like you. Plus I had no idea we were going to perform at the school concert so I really appreciate it.” Okay, forget the crush. She’s definitely in love. “Hey, I missed you at the Celibacy Club meeting. Quinn said you were there but you ran out right before we came together. Did something go wrong?”

Rachel can feel her face burning. “No, no, it’s nothing like that at all. I just… got what I needed out of it.” She leaves out the fact that she had run home and practiced Rihanna’s _Take a Bow_ in front of a mirror for two hours afterwards. That’s something he doesn’t need to know.

Finn nods. “Oh, that’s cool. And you know, even though I don’t really understand that thing that’s going on between you and Quinn, I’m not gonna push the Glee Club or you away just because of her. She understands that. I think.”

God, he deserves better. And maybe she can offer him that. Sure it’s sudden, and kind of embarrassing, but if the choice is between rash, impulsive decisions and Quinn Fabray’s stupid little boxes, she’s going to choose the former every time.

“You know you can kiss me if you want.” She hates the way the words sound leaving her mouth, all cloying and pathetic and deeply, obviously full of shame, but there’s nothing for it anymore. He’s so close and there’s no one around. Maybe this’ll be the thing that distracts her from how badly the last couple days have gone for her.

She's already closed her eyes and leaned in when his words reach her ears. “I can’t.”

Well, so much for being liked. “I’m sorry, you’re right, that was so stupid of me. I should leave.” She scrambles back as quickly as possible, trying to escape with what little dignity she has left. But then he’s reaching forward and grabbing her shoulders, his steady hands offering a comfort she’s not used to receiving, and the contradictions between the rejection and the softness he’s now offering her only serves to scramble her emotions even more.

“Listen, I know, Rachel. I never really understood what you theater kids meant when you talked about chemistry, or whatever, but when we perform together, I feel what you feel. But I’m not gonna throw Quinn under the bus for you either. And to be honest, I don’t think whatever you’re feeling is exactly what you think it is.”

Boxes, boxes, boxes.

“You did great work today Finn. I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow.”

“Rachel- “ he starts, but she's already gone.

***

As the piano brings their rendition of _I Say a Little Prayer_ to a serene conclusion, Quinn Fabray knows they’re golden.

Her looks. Santana’s voice. Brittany’s dancing. The Unholy Trinity, as Coach Sue had so lovingly dubbed her three most talented Cheerleaders, are about to join the Glee Club.

It’s something Quinn would never have been caught doing in a million years, and she can tell that Will Schuester, the club director and an embarrassing fraud of a Spanish teacher, knows it too.

“Wow, that was excellent, you three,” he says, his voice loaded with suspicion. “But I never took the three of you as the type to join Glee Club. Are you sure Coach Sylvester is okay with this?”

“We convinced Coach that it would be good for the Cheerios to expand our creative horizons,” offers Santana with an admirably straight face.

“Lord Tubbington came to me in a dream and told me singing was my destiny,” says Brittany, making somewhat less of an effort to be anything but her deeply bizarre self. Oh, how Quinn loves those two.

“And I heard that Miss Berry’s little exercise in temptation has forced this club to go in some… new directions,” Quinn says, relishing the irony of infiltrating that girl’s precious turf after she had twice stumbled so naively onto Quinn’s. “Directions which I, as the foremost leader in spiritual community at this school, happen to be perfectly suited for.”

Schuester nods, his forehead wrinkled in what Quinn presumes is intense thought. “New Directions,” he repeats, “that’s a great name for a Glee Club.”

Or not.

“You’re in. Rehearsals start tomorrow, and I can’t thank you enough for trying out. This is really going to turn the fortunes of the club… sorry, the New Directions, around.”

 _Yes, it certainly will._ Quinn may have failed to convince her beautiful, stupid boyfriend not to throw his reputation away by falling for Rachel Berry’s obvious bluff, but it’ll all be well worth it once the three of them have completed their mission given to them by Sue Sylvester herself: destroy the Glee Club by any means necessary.

And if she breaks up her boyfriend’s pathetic showmance with the world’s most insecure diva and rains holy fire on Rachel Berry’s life and dreams along the way, well, that’s just the icing on the cake.

“Thank you, Mr. Schuester. We can’t wait to get started.” Quinn turns toward the exit, and throws an arm around each of her friends’ shoulders. “Let’s go girls.”

This is going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Kurt has already come out to the Glee Club as gay (except for Finn, who he came out to when Finn first walked into the choir room). He never formally came out to the school but everyone pretty much already knows.


	3. Acafellas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: The Glee Club performed in a school assembly to try and recruit more members but they totally botched it, and now they have to sing songs from a setlist of pre-approved Christian songs. Rachel tried to practice with Finn and they almost kissed. Awkward. Quinn auditioned with Santana and Brittany for the Glee Club but they only want in because Coach Sylvester wants to take the Glee Club down from the inside.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewriting Acafellas without Will was... interesting. But not impossible. We have a feeling a lot of chapters will be like that.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Quinn Fabray hates to admit it, but dammit if Rachel Berry doesn’t have a seriously amazing voice. 

She’s been stuck in double agent mode all week, technically under the directive of Coach Sylvester to sabotage Glee as part of Coach’s weird hate crush on Will Schuester, but really to get her precious idiot of a boyfriend back to the top of the social ladder where he belongs, which means getting him as far away from Rachel’s punchably endearing face as possible. 

But the longer these rehearsals go on, the more she realizes that the task is going to be a lot harder than it first appeared, not the least of which because Quinn’s having to actively fight against the instinct telling her that Glee Club is actually kind of fun. 

_Well of course it’s fun. Anything is fun if you’re good at it._ And she is. Sure, they’re never going to let her sing lead with no less than three aspiring divas sucking up all of the oxygen in the room with their alternating fits of hyper-competitiveness and insecurity, but that suits her just fine; she doesn’t need to when she already commands the biggest spotlight in the school as her birthright. She has always liked singing, though, and she was pleasantly surprised to find that not only does she blend beautifully with Britt and Santana, she also harmonizes really well with that Artemis girl, who probably deserves a more prominent role if she would just stop trying to get the director to let her rap.

Being in the background of a performance for the first time in her life, though, is giving her a serious perspective shift, and she’s starting to realize she hadn’t prepared for what it would reveal.

Because Quinn has always performed knowing that she was on the top of the world. When the Cheerios get in formation, it doesn’t matter that the football team they’re “cheering” for can’t find the end zone with a GPS, because the entire school knows who rules the place. When she’s at the apex of the pyramid, Quinn can let go of all of her responsibilities and know, just for once, that she is in complete control. 

Rachel doesn’t have any of that confidence. What she does have is a relentlessness that Quinn can’t help but admire, even if it mostly just makes the girl a total bitch. She has absurd amounts of talent to back up her arrogance, but she also hones it with the kind of maniacal intensity that separates the best of the best from the rest of the pack, which makes her quite useful as an arch nemesis. Coach Sue would kill her if she ever said it out loud, but Quinn knows that without Rachel Berry’s recurring presence in her nightmares for the past decade, the Cheerios wouldn't be defending national champions. And as hard as it is to appreciate it when she’s oversinging every solo into ear splitting oblivion, she has a voice that makes everything else in the world disappear.

Quinn wishes all of that was just the universe taking pity on a girl who doesn’t have anything going for her in the looks department, but the most frustrating thing about Rachel Berry is that she is actually ridiculously pretty. Not in the obvious ways, certainly, or she would have what Quinn has, but something about the way she chooses her painfully basic outfits with absolutely no intention of impressing anyone, the way the lines of her annoying face are accentuated just right when she wears her hair down, but somehow look even better when she puts it up behind that stupid headband, and of course the way her utterly unremarkable brown eyes makes the concept of beauty functionally meaningless by being so damn hypnotizing… Quinn’s used to being surrounded by temptation, but she really did dodge a bullet when God made her a girl. Because if she was a boy, she would have fallen in love with Rachel Berry ages ago. Which would be awful, because, again, she’s a total bitch. 

“All right, everyone, that was an excellent run-through, especially given the lackluster material we’re working with.” 

Case in point.

“Princess, aren’t you the whole reason that we have to use these setlists in the first place?” asks Santana. Quinn had been afraid her lieutenant would blow the Cheerios’ cover with her prickliness, until she realized that the Glee kids are just as petty and confrontational with each other as every other clique in this godforsaken school. 

“If by that you mean I was unjustly targeted by the administration for exercising my right to artistic expression and making the decisive choices befitting a club leader, than yes, Santana, I am the reason we’re singing the praises to your alleged lord and savior right now.” 

Brittany’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Wait, this song is about Lord Xenu?”

“We talked about this Britt,” Santana sighs, throwing an arm around the taller girl’s shoulders. “Scientology isn’t a real religion.”

Brittany nods knowingly. “Not as long as it’s led by false prophets.” 

Like most of the things that come out of Brittany’s mouth, it’s best to leave that exchange alone. The only thing that's a match for Santana’s abrasiveness is Brittany’s oddness; Quinn can never decide if it makes no sense or perfect sense that those two have been inseparable from the moment they first met. 

Quinn steps forward. This sabotage scheme is getting off track. “I’m going to set aside the slanderous use of the word “alleged” in that sentence, because we have more pressing concerns. Do we really think that we can use this setlist for the school concert and not suffer complete humiliation?” 

Rachel fixes her with that childish glare that's followed Quinn to every class and every performance since she first had the displeasure of knowing the girl existed. “Actually, Quinn, I don’t think we’ll have problems at all. Our harmonies are better than ever - which, by the way, is partly because of you - and while we may be lacking in lead vocals for however long my draconian blacklisting lasts, I have full confidence in Finn to carry us to victory.”

Quinn’s used to Rachel Berry making a compliment sound like a declaration of war. But the ferocity with which she defends Finn is something different entirely. Quinn knows she should assume it’s a crush, and take maximum precautions to prevent Finn from getting away from her, but she knows Rachel enough to know that when she sees someone purely in terms of art, human emotions become entirely irrelevant. Still, even if Rachel wouldn't know what love was if it punched her in the voice box, there’s definitely a risk that she’ll mistake her little artistic fascination with Finn as something more than the pathetic crutch it actually is. 

More pressing at the moment is that the rest of the room is nodding along, actually buying Rachel’s trite motivational speech. It galls Quinn to no end that this black hole of anti-charisma has actually managed to win people to her cause, though she is at least starting to see why: she puts so much of her deeply annoying self into the Glee Club that the other kids can’t help but follow her lead. If she’s confident that the New Directions will bring the house down at Sectionals, Quinn would be hard-pressed to get them not to believe her. If she’s going to successfully break the Glee Club, Quinn first needs to break Rachel. 

Retreat and regroup then. “Well, no one has more confidence in my man than I do.” Might as well flex a little, just to warn her off. “If you say we’ll be fine, I’m sure we’ve got nothing to worry about.” She shoots a sideways glance at Brittany and Santana, silently communicating that an emergency meeting of the spies is in order. “We’ve got to run to Cheerios practice. Always a pleasure working with you, Rachel.” With a wink and a casual toss of her hair - Rachel has always been completely unable to handle any interaction with her other than straightforward hostility, and Quinn deeply enjoys taking advantage of this - the cheer captain ushers her proteges out the door and down the hallway.

When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Quinn huddles together with Brittany and Santana. “Alright, girls, what are we thinking?” 

“I’m thinking Rachel Berry is going to be more of a problem than we anticipated,” mutters Santana, who Quinn can always count on to read the room accurately. 

“Do you think Artemis has a compartment in her wheelchair where she keeps the moon?” says Brittany, who, well. 

“Oh, god, she’s not the actual goddess Artemis, Britt.” Santana bites down on her lip to keep from laughing. 

Brittany furrows her brow in confusion. “But she can’t be human. She’s too pretty. Almost as pretty as you.” 

Santana tries to hide her blush with a sarcastic grin. “Oh really? What goddess does that make me then?” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” Quinn’s voice comes out a little harsher than she would have liked, but those two have been giving off way too much of a vibe ever since the year began. Quinn knows they won’t succumb to temptation - they are her most trusted confidants in both the Cheerios and the Celibacy Club, after all - but if rumors start flying, and she loses the only friends she's ever had…

“Santana, you’re right that we need to do something about Rachel. But we might be too late. Those kids aren’t stupid. Once they realize how far her voice can take them, they’ll put up with anything from that insufferable personality, knowing they’ll reap the benefits. And Schuester certainly won’t get in her way; he sees himself in her, and he’ll do anything to make sure she succeeds. We need another point of attack, or else they’ll use Invitationals as a springboard to placing at Regionals, and Coach will have our heads.” 

“They really do sing well. I always forget people can do that even if they can’t dance. Though maybe they can, and Mr. Schuester is just telling them to look like headless chickens on purpose.” Brittany pauses from braiding Santana’s hair and notices Quinn staring at her. “What?” 

Quinn throws her arms around her. “Brit, you absolute genius. That’s it!” Leave it to the girl whose brain perpetually occupies an entirely separate galaxy to unlock the key to the New Directions’ destruction. 

“Finn’s two left feet. Schuester’s abysmal choreography.” And Rachel’s insecurity, just waiting for the right push to break through the surface. 

“This is how we do it. This is how we bring them down.”

***

Finn Hudson knew splitting time between the Titans and the New Directions was going to be tough on his bros. He never expected it to be this bad.

“So you’re telling me a girl overheard you in the shower, and now you’re a singing dancing mascot for the kids that we’ve been pushing around for years. And you want me to join you?”

Finn thinks for a second. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

Puck’s laughter abruptly cuts off when he realizes Finn isn’t joking. “Bro, are you on something right now? You can’t seriously be asking me to do that.“

“Puck, come on. You play guitar, for God’s sake. And I’ve heard you sing along to the car radio so many times. You’d be perfect. Besides, we work so well together on the field, why wouldn’t it be the same way with music? We could be like, song bros. Aca-fellas.”

Puck narrows his eyes. “Acafellas? Really?” 

“Ok, maybe that’s stupid,” Finn concedes. “But it would be fun! What’s the harm?”

“Well, for one thing, the entire team thinks you’re gay.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. Love is love right?” 

“That’s not the point.” 

“What is the point, then?” 

He waits for an answer, but Puck doesn't seem to have one. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t leave when you realized there was no extra credit. Like, what does Berry have on you?” 

“There’s no extra credit? But Rachel said if I went over the stuff with her the night before the test Mr. Schue would give me a better grade, and then he did.” 

Puck stares at him in that way people always do whenever they’re about to call him an idiot, which is frustrating because Finn can never figure out why.

“Finn, that’s called studying.”

“Wait, you mean when I got that good grade on the test… that was all me?” 

“Yes, because as hard as it is to remember sometimes, you actually aren’t completely stupid one hundred percent of the time.” Puck shakes his head in disbelief. “You’ve got to get some self-respect, man. Otherwise there’s no football scholarship in the world that’s gonna save you.”

Finn’s used to condescension. From his teachers, from Quinn, from well-meaning but also kind of insane Rachel. Getting it from his best bro, though, is too much. 

“Okay, so Rachel manipulated me to get what she wanted. And you’re doing what exactly?” Puck at least has the decency to look ashamed. “Maybe Rachel lied to get me to join Glee. But the only way I would lose my self-respect is if I denied that I really love being in Glee. I’m not going to give it up, especially since the team isn’t doing any worse than we were before I joined.”

Puck scowls. “It’s not about winning, man. Sure, we get our asses kicked out there, but we get our asses kicked together. That’s how we do things. Now all of a sudden that’s not good enough for you? If you want to choose Mr. Schue’s circus freaks over our future at Ohio State, go right ahead. But don’t ask me to follow you on this one.” 

The words hit Finn harder than any linebacker ever has. He’s gotten into plenty of fights with Puck before, but it’s always a given that they’ll find their way back to each other. Anything else is just unthinkable. But this… this feels like a rift opening up that may soon be too wide for either of them to jump across. 

“Look, bro, I didn’t know I was making you this sad. And I’m sorry, I really am. But I’m not asking you to give anything up, and I’m not quitting on you. I’m giving you the chance to show the world a whole new part of yourself, that’s every bit as talented as the one in shoulder pads. I know it’s a lot to juggle, but I have faith that we can pull together. Besides, it’s 2009. Aren’t they always saying we can have it all?” 

Puck’s gaze is fixed on the wall, but Finn feels a wave of relief sweep over him as his best friend’s thousand yard stare slowly softens. “I’m pretty sure that’s a chick thing, Finn.” He finally turns, his face contorted into an expression halfway between a smile and a grimace, and punches Finn in the shoulder. Which is good, because that’s the universal bro sign of affection.

“Tell you what. I’ll give you some time to realize you’re making a mistake.” 

Finn smiles. “It might be a long wait.”

“I’ve got time.” Puck, thankfully, smiles back. “For now, what do you say we run some routes before you have to go to choir practice?”

It isn’t a resolution, but it is at least a promise that they can work through it together. Just like they always have. 

“Bro, you didn’t even have to ask.”

***

Rachel can’t believe she’s thinking it about a situation where she’s forced to rely on other people, but she has to admit that things are looking up.

The fact that this upward trajectory is aligning perfectly with Quinn Fabray joining Glee Club - a series of words Rachel would have bet her career on never appearing next to each other - is just something she’s going to have to deal with. 

“Excellent a capella work, everyone. Mercedes, that’s exactly what we need out of the lead vocal. Kurt, Artie, great work on the harmonies as usual. And Quinn, you’re blending beautifully. If we keep this up, we’ll be on to Sectionals with the wind in our sails and my voice back on stage.” Her eyes meet Quinn’s for half a second, and she could swear she sees genuine warmth there. Sure enough, as the New Directions disperse, Rachel finds herself oddly unsurprised to see Quinn walking toward her. 

“This club is really pulling together, isn’t it?” Rachel isn’t sure how to respond; she never is when Quinn starts acting like a decent person, mostly because it has never lasted for more than five minutes at a time. 

Still, they are on the same team now, and the least Rachel can do is return respect in kind. “It’ll be hard, but we’ll get there. And you’re a big part of that Quinn. As much as our history with each other is… complicated, I’m glad we can be on the same team for once.”

When she smiles, and the usual signs of artifice are nowhere to be found, Rachel can’t help but think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. “You took the words right out of my mouth,” she says, her voice carrying a softness that’s utterly alien and yet so comforting. “There is one thing, though.” 

There it is. 

“Just one?” 

“Well, two actually. You’ve got us sounding amazing, and no one has any doubt that your talent will put us over the top as soon as you come back. But that’s only one aspect of a show choir performance. And as someone who has captained a cheer squad to a national championship, I know how important it is to put together a complete package, with no weak links.” 

Rachel’s heart sinks. She’s used to Quinn tearing her down for all of the things that she knows won’t matter in the end. She hasn’t been prepared for her lifelong rival to accurately diagnose the New Directions’ fatal flaw. 

“You mean the dancing.” 

“And the choreography.” Quinn reaches out and grips Rachel’s shoulder, which coincides with a sudden spell of dizziness. “In fact, that’s more of the problem. Finn can’t keep up with these steps to save his life, but a good choreographer could easily hide him, and bring out the best in who we do have. With Schuester running the show, we’ve got no chance.”

Rachel risks another prolonged look into Quinn’s eyes, but finds no hint of malice there. She may have been transported into a mirror dimension where everything she knows has inverted itself, but she can see Quinn is clearly trying to help. More importantly, she’s right. Amidst all the anxiety of trying to recruit new kids - a project that she can only pray Finn will be able to complete - and the chaos of getting demoted, Rachel has missed the most obvious obstacle in between her and a national championship. There’s no one else to turn to: she has no choice but to trust the girl who has done nothing but hurt her.

“Okay.” Rachel detaches herself from Quinn’s grip and takes a breath to steady herself. “What do we do?” 

“There’s a choreographer who works for Vocal Adrenaline. The best in the business.”

“Of course he is,” Rachel scoffs. “Jesse St. James wouldn’t settle for anything less. But if he already works for them, how does that help us?” 

“He works for them because they can pay his fee. There’s no man in the show choir business with less institutional loyalty than Dakota Stanley. You get enough money, either from fundraisers or from Figgins, and you can steal him for the New Directions. If it works, we’re golden because then it comes down to vocals. And just between us, Jesse St. James has nothing on you.” 

It’s the kind of thing Rachel has been telling herself in the mirror ever since she set her sights on the lead singer for the defending national champions as her most logical choice of rival, but hearing it from Quinn makes her believe it more than she ever has before. 

“You know what, you’re right. I’m sure Mr. Schuester will understand. This is what the New Directions need.” She turns to leave, intending to find her director and tell him what needs to be done, but as she exits the room she turns back to Quinn.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” The pet name has always been delivered with such venom, but now maybe, just maybe, Rachel is starting to believe that can change.

***

“How in the homosexual name of Jesus did you three screw that up?”

Coach Sylvester is angry, and Quinn is in serious trouble. 

“I swear, Coach, I did everything just right. Rachel bought it hook, line, and sinker. She had a fight with Schuester, she was going to make the call to Dakota Stanley, and he was going to break the Glee Club’s spirits and destroy their finances. And then she lined them up at rehearsal the next day and their choreography had been completely transformed overnight; Finn never even had a chance to trip over anyone but himself. It was immaculate, as if they had gotten Brittany to do it.” 

“Wait,” Brittany interjects. “Was I not supposed to do that?” 

The room falls silent as all three heads swivel towards her. 

“You redid the New Directions’ choreography?” Santana’s too bewildered to be angry. “When?”

“Last night. I saw Rachel crying after she left Schuester’s office, and she told me she would get kicked off Glee permanently if she tried to hire Dakota Stanley. She looks really scary when she cries, so I told her if it was choreography we needed I could get it fixed in an hour with how basic this setlist is. We snuck into the school after the PTA meeting and I put them through one of your day one drills, Coach. They were pretty fast learners.” 

“Get out.” Coach Sylvester stands, her eyes burning with fury Quinn has rarely seen when Will Schuester isn’t in the room. “I specifically instruct you to sabotage William’s satanic show choir, and not only do you fail turn their wretchedly insecure so-called leader against them, not only do you fail to turn the wrath of Dakota Stanley upon their feeble, poorly developed bodies, but when presented with the opportunity to simply sit back and let them bludgeon themselves into eternal humiliation on their own lack of coordination, you instead choose to divulge Cheerios trade secrets?” 

Brittany shrugs. “They seem nice. I thought it would be fun.” 

“FUN? I suppose you think being a national cheer champion is about having fun, don't you, you pathetic disgrace to the legacy of _Legally Blonde._ You’re off the squad, Britt, and don’t ever let me see you in this office again.” 

Santana stands up so fast she almost knocks her chair over. “You can’t do that. We’re nothing without Brittany. And just because this plan failed doesn’t mean we still can’t accomplish our mission.” 

Quinn is about to make a desperate plea for everyone to calm down, because this is getting out of hand really fast, but she’s shocked into silence when Coach Sylvester’s infamous evil eye turns not toward Santana, but toward her.

“You really have done an abysmal job at breaking these two in, Captain Q. Do you think you can get a handle on this mutiny, or would you like to discover what the bottom of a human pyramid feels like?” 

Quinn steels her courage as best she can. She never could have gotten to where she was if she hadn’t cultivated an ironclad loyalty to Sue Sylvester, but that also means she is the only one with any shot of standing up for her friends. And as much as she’s willing to let Glee burn if it means getting the last laugh over Rachel Berry, the two girls cowering behind her mean more to her than any of that.

“I can promise you an open line of communication, and plenty of opportunities to undermine the Glee Club along the way if Britt stays on the Cheerios. If she’s out, then you lose all three of us to the New Directions.” She does her best to ignore how her coach seems to be trying to light her on fire with her eyes and soldiers on. “No spies to help you get one over on Will Schuester, and you know as well as we do that you’d be throwing away any shot at a fifth straight national title.” 

Coach’s silence seems like it lasts an eternity. Quinn is sure she's played her hand too strong. 

“Deal.” The single word lifts the weight off Quinn’s chest in an instant. “But be careful who you try to challenge, Q. You’re not as indispensable as you think you are.” She surveys the three of them with undisguised contempt. “Alright, that’s enough. All three of you, move it. I need to get the smell of failure out of my office.” 

Quinn doesn’t need to be told twice. She grabs her friends’ hands and has the three of them down the hall faster than she has ever gotten a cheer squad into formation.

“Hey.” Santana murmurs when they are sufficiently out of earshot. “Thanks for having our backs out there.” 

Quinn smiles. “No need to thank me. Making sure Coach doesn’t railroad you is kind of my only responsibility as your friend.” She looks at Brittany, who despite having just undergone some serious whiplash, is looking as vibrantly spaced-out as usual. “And thank you, Brit, for being yourself. I guess we could all stand to have a little more fun, even if -”

_Oh god, no._

“Quinn?” Santana squeezes her hand. “What’s wrong?” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

***

“Do you think I should tell him?”

It’s been a week since Kurt first asked the question, and he knows the answer will be the same as every other time. That consistency is what makes Mercedes such an amazing friend, after all. But as the two of them walk through the halls after the end of another rehearsal, he finds himself needing to hear it again, if only to keep the question from bouncing around inside his head for the rest of the day, the way it has been for months now.

“Kurt.” Mercedes smiles. “I think you should do whatever feels right to you, right now, and I’m gonna keep saying that until you accept it.” 

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry I’ve been spending all our time together lately on this… ”

“No, no. Don’t apologize. This is important. I can rant about how much Rachel annoys me another day.”

Kurt blushes. “Thanks, Mercedes. It’s just, every time I start to make up my mind, the worst case scenarios start invading my thoughts again. I mean, I know him, right? I can anticipate how he’d react to this - he’ll say he always knew, and then he’ll give me a lecture about being safe and taking care of myself and then he’ll tell me he loves me no matter what and always will.” 

“Sounds like you have your answer, then.” 

“But what if I don’t? What if that’s just the idealized version of him I’ve made up in my head?” Kurt tries to stop the words from spilling out, but he can’t help himself. “Plenty of parents love their kids no matter what until their kids are gay, and even if he’s never given any indication he would feel that way, he is from Lima, and sometimes you can’t tell until it’s too late and I just… I can’t lose him Mercedes. He’s all I’ve got.” 

Mercedes grabs his hand. “You’ve got me too, Kurt. I know it’s terrifying, and I wish I could tell you that there was a way to be a hundred percent certain which decision is the right one. If it all goes wrong, I will be here, and you will have so many people fighting for you, I’ll make sure of that. And even if you’re sure it will go well, you don’t owe this to anybody. Not even him.”

Kurt can already feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes, but Mercedes isn’t done yet. 

“It’s not a question of what you have to do, or what you should do. It’s a question of what you want to do. It’s a risk, even if we both have plenty of reasons to think it will pay off. Is it a risk you want to take?” 

There is nothing for it, then. Kurt looks inside himself, and suddenly there’s clarity where there had been none; there was only ever one answer, the answer that Kurt can’t ignore any longer. 

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Our Puck is actually played by Tyler Ford, who was a contestant on the Glee Project.
> 
> Rachel already knows who show choir legend Jesse St. James is but hasn’t met him yet. She already thinks of him as a rival.
> 
> Since Tina is no longer present here, the plot of Rachel leaving the Glee Club to audition for Cabaret (or just Cabaret in general) has been cut.
> 
> The next episode, Preggers, wasn't written by Ryan Murphy. It was written by Brad Falchuk. So Cecelia is tagging out next chapter and Oliver (our own Brad) will pick up where she left off. Cecelia will be back for episode 6, Vitamin D. Thank you guys again for the nice comments. They really help motivate us!


	4. Preggers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: The Unholy Trinity is having a hard time taking down the Glee Club so they tried to make their choreography impossible, but Brittany accidentally taught them how to dance better. Now the Glee Club is stronger than ever before. Finn tried to get his best friend Puck to join but he's still not budging.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, new author. Here's Oliver's first chapter, so if there's a slight difference in style, that would be why!
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Kurt discovered at a very young age that advertising his love of Beyonce was the fastest way to find himself covered in red dye 40 at the bottom of a dumpster. Of course, he’s never been one to let bigots like the ones that stalk the halls of McKinley dictate who he is or how he expresses himself.

And that is how he finds himself dancing his gay little heart out to _Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)_ in his basement with Mercedes and Brittany as his backup one unfortunate afternoon.

He had promised himself that he would come out to his dad a week ago. And then he chickened out. He’s proud of who he is, and he knows his dad will always love him no matter what, but that doesn’t make saying it out loud any easier. Which is why it’s mortifying that his father has just come down the stairs and froze, staring at him in his sparkly golden jacket, stiletto leather boots, and all.

“Dad! You’re home early!”

“Deadliest Catch is on. What are you wearing?”

Kurt looks guiltily down at his shoes. “Um. I borrowed them from Brittany. We figured, if I can manage this choreo in these, then I’ll have it down pat when I try it in actual dance shoes.”

“It really works! All the athletes are doing it!” Mercedes pipes in.

“Totally. Kurt’s on the football team now. He’s the kicker – that’s the smallest guy on the field, right?” adds Brittany, very unhelpfully.

“Oh, you’re on the football team now?” His dad looks surprised but pleased, and he just can’t bear to let him down.

“Yeah... “

“That’s great, son. You know, I used to play before I busted my knee, popping wheelies on my third bike.”

“Cool. I guess we’ll have something to talk about.” This is the single worst conversation he’s ever had. Why does it need to be happening in front of his best friend and Brittany?

“So one of you two his girlfriend?”

Kurt jolts. That catches him off guard. _What do I do? What do I do?_ There’s no rational explanation for what he does next, he just needs to act quickly. Before he knows it, his arm is around Mercedes.

“But we’re not ready to be exclusive just yet,” he adds hastily.

“Alright, just keep the music down. I can’t hear myself think up there.” _Whew._ “And hey, Kurt. Be sure to get me a ticket to your first game.” _Crap._

***

Quinn hadn’t thought Rachel Berry could get any more annoying. Boy, was she wrong.

"You'll never guess what I saw on the news last night!" announces Rachel, bursting into the room and immediately dragging everyone else into whatever petty drama she’s decided to blow up this time. She slides herself into the seat on Finn’s other side, and then has the gall to scoot herself even closer to him.

"Don't tell me, you discovered push-up bras and now you need to leave early to get to Justice before their back-to-school sale ends," says Quinn, putting on her best winning smile.

"Actually… " says Rachel, "This might interest you, Quinn. It seems Coach Sylvester's got a new spot. Yeah, something about how we should bring back caning? Of course, you'd be all for hitting children, wouldn't you? What with the whole Catholic thing? I mean, I wouldn't know, being a Jew; we don't really believe in beating children, but that's just us."

"And that's why the Jewish people have a history of oppression, Rebecca." They all turn to see Coach Sylvester striding into the room, a box of donuts under her arm. “You see, being a local celebrity who’s been written up twice on the sports page of USA Today has its perks. Here, someone take these, my hands are still sore from signing autographs down at the Donut Hole this morning. You losers can have those; they’re all the bad flavors anyway.”

Taking the box, Rachel asks, “Wait, why are you here?”

“Well, Roxanne, if you must know, I came to personally inform you that your little plot to get Sandy Ryerson, that pathetic excuse of an English teacher, to put on a production of _Cabaret_ was a complete waste of time. I happen to have more dirt on Figgins than your tiny, showtune addled brain could ever comprehend, and I shut that monstrosity down the second I caught wind of it.”

With that, she’s gone, knocking into Mr. Schuester on her way out. Quinn has to admit, unnecessary and childish as their rivalry is, it’s definitely entertaining. The poor guy almost drops his sheet music from the force of their collision.

“What am I- are we singing this week Mr. Schuester?”

Rachel’s little slip of the tongue definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room. It seems the song of the week is her solo for the school concert, _Taking Chances_ by Celine Dion. Something’s different about this sheet music though. It almost looks like...

“Excuse me, Mr. Schue, I think you mixed up the sheet music,” Rachel pipes up, her bottom lip doing something that would almost be cute if it wasn't Rachel.

“No I didn’t. I've decided that more voices from the Glee Club need to be heard, which is why _Taking Chances_ will be replaced by _Last Name_ and sung by Artie instead.”

Ha! This can’t get funnier. Rachel looks absolutely crushed.

“But, Mr. Schue, you also gave Quinn my lead in _Don’t Stop Believin’ ._ That's just not fair!”

“I’m sorry Rachel, but you lost yourself that part. You pulled that stunt at the assembly and if I gave you your part and solo spot back then it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

“But, I’ve already been punished. I gave up singing for a whole week! Do you know how hard it was for me to be in a room full of people singing show choir and not be able to participate at all? It was practically torture! That’s over now, and for you to continue with this barbarism is so unfair! At the very least, you should give me my lead back.”

“What would be unfair,” Mr. Schuester says, “is if I took away the part that Quinn has been working hard on all week when she’s done nothing wrong. Now, I happen to think that Quinn’s voice would complement this song nicely, and I don’t want to hear any more about this.”

With a huff and a glare at Quinn she gets up and storms off. She can be so childish sometimes. She really is ridiculous if she thinks this is going to go her way. No, she’ll have to do a little better than that if she wants the next solo.

***

Kurt knows there’s only one thing he can do to make up for the blunder that was his Sunday conversation with his dad.

“Finn? I need to ask for a favor.” He managed to corner the giant quarterback after practice, no small feat considering the way Quinn clings to him like a lifeline anytime Rachel might be within a twenty foot radius.

And that’s how he finds himself standing behind Finn, stomach twisting in knots, surrounded by the football players who’ve tormented him for the past two years, knowing that he could be jumped at any minute, especially here on what is literally their home turf.

“Six games,” Coach Shannon is yelling, “Six games, and our kicker is zero for twelve in field goal attempts. As most of you statistically minded people know, THAT SUCKS!!! So the next guy that can get a football between those uprights will get his job.”

 _Perfect._ This is his shot. Stepping past Finn into Coach Shannon’s field of vision, he gives his best winning smile and thrusts out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be auditioning for the role of kicker.”

Several players laugh at that, but Kurt doesn’t let this deter him. Keeping his chin up, he maintains eye contact with Coach Shannon, who seems to be assessing whether or not this is a joke, before nodding and shaking his outstretched hand.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Finn, if you please,” Kurt motions to Finn who produces the boombox they brought from the choir room.

As the opening beats of _Single Ladies_ filter through the speakers, Kurt feels his body momentarily relax before he begins to dance. People can say what they will about his athletic ability, but Kurt Hummel knows how to dance. Somehow, whether because of shock, or awe, or just slow reaction times, Kurt’s able to make it through his routine without any interruptions from the onlooking football players. As he steadily approaches the ball, he pulls his foot back, and perfectly executes the final move of his careful choreography, sending the ball sailing straight through the center of the uprights.

Suddenly, Coach Shannon’s in his face, “Can you do that with the game on the line and ten gorillas bearing down on you wanting nothing more than to taste your sweet virgin blood?”

Kurt thinks for a moment before replying, “That depends. Can I have my music?”

“If you kick like that, you can do whatever you want!” Turning to the rest of the team, the coach bellows, “Gentlemen! We have found ourselves a kicker!”

Kurt looks around at his new teammates before catching the eye of one Noah Puckerman, who’s giving him a particularly murderous glance. Kurt refuses to acknowledge it, but inwardly, he shivers.

***

Finn still can’t believe what happened at practice yesterday. Who knew Kurt had such a powerful leg? He wonders how someone so short can kick a ball so high. He figures he’ll have to ask later.

Rounding the corner on his way to Geometry, he stops short. Quinn’s at her locker as usual, but her shoulders are shaking, and her fingers are trembling as she reaches for her AP Chemistry textbook. His girlfriend is so smart. If she’s upset, it has to be about something important. She’s way too focused to cry in public over something like a spilled bag of limited addition cheesy cheddar BBQ Cheetos. Of course, he hadn’t cried either. He was just really really bummed for the rest of the week. Anyway, something really bad must have happened to Quinn. He calls out to her, but she doesn’t answer. He tries again, but she just closes her locker door and starts to walk away.

“Quinn! Whatever I did I’m sorry!” That seems to get her attention. She stops dead in her tracks, waiting for him to catch up before pulling him into an empty doorway.

“I’m pregnant.” It’s barely above a whisper, but to Finn it rings in his ears loud enough to block out any other noises from the crowded hallway.

“Mine?” he croaks. His throat is tight, and he can’t breathe.

“Yes, yours. Who else’s would it be?”

“But we… we never…” Nothing makes sense. Nothing ever really makes sense, but now things really really don’t make sense.

“Last month. Hot tub.”

Finn racks his brain, before remembering. Quinn’s parents had been out of town at some fancy Christian parenting convention or whatever. He had told his mom he was at Puck’s and instead he had spent the evening making out with Quinn in her parents’ hot tub. Or at least, that had been the plan. They kinda had to cut it short.

See, things were going really well at first. She wouldn’t let him touch her boobs or anything but she was in a bikini, so there was still a lot of skin on skin, and it had felt really really good. Unfortunately, it had felt a little too good, and Finn had realized his mistake a little too late.

Normally, he had a really good trick for avoiding those kinds of embarrassing situations. He would just think of the least sexy thing he could. When he first got his permit, he and his mom were practicing pulling in and out of the driveway, and he was so excited about being able to drive, and he wasn’t really paying too much attention, and there was this mailman walking past right as he was backing out. The guy was fine after a quick trip to the ICU, but Finn’s mom had freaked out, screaming, “You killed him!” over and over, and Finn thought he was going to go to jail, and his mom was crying, and there was just so much blood.

So he thought of that when things were getting a little too hot and heavy. Except this time, it was too late. But he had been wearing a swimsuit. He says as much to Quinn, but she just smiles sadly and shakes her head.

“Yahoo Answers says a hot tub is the perfect temperature for sperm. It, it helps it swim faster.”

“Oh shit. Shit! Um, are– are you gonna get…?”

“I can’t. I really thought I had a shot at getting out of here! No,” she responds through tears. She’s really crying now, shoulders heaving, and breath coming out in little hiccups. She collapses into him, and it was all he can do to just hold her.

He doesn’t really know who to turn to about this. He’s not ready to tell his mom. Puck says talking about feelings isn’t in the bro code. He’s seen the guys around town who had kids in high school. They work at the supermarket or the gas station if they’re lucky. Some aren’t. They’re caged with no future. He can’t become one of those dudes. He has to go to college, but he doesn’t have the money. He needs a football scholarship, but the only way he’s going to get one of those is if they start winning.

He’s been trying everything he and Coach can think of for as long as he’s been captain. Winning games just isn’t something the McKinley Titans are good at. They need something new, a trick that no other team has ever tried. Suddenly, it hits him. He needs to find Kurt. Luckily, they’re in the same Spanish class, right after math.

“I need you to return that favor,” Finn says. He’s managed to corner him before class started.

He seems shocked, and also a little anxious? “It’s nothing big, just… I need you to teach the football team to dance.”

“You what?”

“Here, check this out. I got this at the school library. Did you know you can just borrow books from there? All of them. Except for the encyclopedias, but… it says here that Walter Payton was a great dancer. In college, he took ballet lessons, and he even got the whole Bears team to take them the year they won the Super Bowl. That’s how they came up with the Super Bowl Shuffle. Watching you kick that field goal made me realize that’s what the football team needs to put us over the edge.”

“You want me to teach the football team how to dance? I don’t think they’ll go for that. They’ll probably stop letting me take off my designer jackets before throwing me in the dumpsters. Do you know how much those jackets cost? I can’t afford to be getting them dry cleaned every day.”

“Ill talk them into it. Look, it'll all be on me, you just have to do the actual teaching bit. If you can help us win a game, maybe they’ll even start to leave you alone. It’s a win-win for both of us.”

Or, at least, Finn hopes it will be. Later that day at practice, they try pitching the idea. Sadly, his teammates don’t seem on board.

“This is garbage! What the hell does Beyonce have to do with football?!” Puck yells, slamming his locker door shut.

“Why don’t you ask Kurt? He's the only one who ever manages to actually score on this team, so clearly, he knows something we don't.” Finn doesn’t mean to call him out in front of the whole locker room, but that seems to be how Puck takes it. His face contorts for a second before he turns to Coach Shannon.

“Coach. Please. Step in here.”

“Sun Tzu says to never let the enemy know you. Our greatest weapon could be the element of surprise. Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t be on your heels if the other team started busting a move on the field.”

Five minutes later, the whole squad is in full pads, doing their best to match Kurt’s steps. He spends the rest of practice listening to Kurt working as patiently as he can with a group that would clearly rather be anywhere else. Coach finally takes pity on them calls it after about an hour, and they all head back to the locker room.

What if this doesn’t work out after all? What is he going to do? How is he supposed to support a baby if he can’t even support his teammates? If this doesn’t work, he’ll never win a game, and he’ll never get a scholarship, and he’ll never get out of Lima, and his kid will never get out of Lima, and they’ll all be trapped, the three of them, in this miserable life, and it’ll be all his fault.

“What’s your problem?” Puck sidles up next to him, gently pushing at his shoulder.

“Nothing. I just got a lot on my mind.”

“Seriously, bro. What’s going on? I’m your best friend. Talk.”

“Quinn’s pregnant. She’s keeping the baby,” he says before booking it, not wanting to see Puck’s reaction.

***

Quinn has no idea what she's going to do next. No. That’s not true. She knows exactly what she’s going to do. She’s going to walk to English. She’s going to ace her quiz on _Sense and Sensibilities._ She’s going to go to Glee rehearsal. She’s going to smile and kiss her father on the cheek and eat her dinner and go to bed. She’s going to take this one day at a time, and she’s going to survive, just like always.

"Sup, MILF?”

No. This isn’t happening. She isn’t going to have this conversation. This isn’t part of her new plan.

“Leave me alone.”

“Who’s the daddy? I just think it’s kind of weird if it’s Finn, since you told me you were a virgin when we did it… And I know for a fact that you didn’t do it with him.”

Noah is not doing this to her. He is not calling her out in the middle of a crowded hallway. She ducks into a deserted alcove before responding, “How can you be so sure?”

“Finn’s my bro. He would have told me.”

“You make a habit of sleeping with your bros’ girlfriends?” She turns to walk away, but Noah knows exactly what’ll get her to come back.

He throws his hands in the air, making a spectacle of himself before almost shouting, “Well, call the Vatican! We’ve got ourselves another Immaculate Conception!”

Quinn darts her eyes around desperately to make sure no one heard. At this point, the bell has rung, so she only has to watch out for hall monitors. She checks to make sure the coast is clear before stalking back to him and hissing, “What exactly do you want from me?”

“I’d take care of it, you know. You, too. My dad’s a deadbeat but I don’t roll that way. I’ve got my pool cleaning business.”

“Listen, I had sex with you because I was drunk on wine coolers and I felt fat that day, but it was a mistake. You’re a Lima loser and you’re always gonna be a Lima loser,” she says, knowing it’s the only thing that’ll shut him up before running away, blinking tears out of her eyes.

***

Finn doesn’t know a lot of things, but he knows he wants to be a good father. He wants to show Quinn he can be a good father. 

“Here,” he says, holding up a torn old cloth for Quinn, “It’s the baby blanket my dad got me the day I was born. It was the only thing I had to remember him by. I used to cry without it, and I took it everywhere with me, so it’s a little dirty. But I want our baby to have it. I was hoping you would um… you know, like, wear it as a token of my affection, or whatever they used to say.”

Quinn smiles, looking surprised. She reaches out carefully and takes it, turning it around in her hands.

“I’m gonna do everything I can to be a good father.”

“Thank you, Finn.”

“Hey, guys,” says Puck, sauntering up to Quinn’s side, bumping her shoulder, “How you doing? You know, lately, I’ve been getting really sick in the morning.”

“Must be a virus,” snaps Quinn. She looks angry for some reason.

“Hey, are you putting on a little weight? You should watch your carbs. They’re not going to be able to hoist you to the top of that cheerleading pyramid much longer.”

That’s too much. What is Puck doing? “Hey. Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that.”

“You know what?” Puck backs away, hands up in a sign of surrender, “You’re right. I was out of line. See you guys around.”

***

Kurt hadn’t thought a bunch of homophobic neanderthals would be able to pull of a Beyonce routine, but they managed pretty well. Too bad they announced right before the game that while practicing in the choir room had been fine, there was no way they were actually going through with it in front of a crowd. Oh well. Kurt tried his best, and honestly he doesn’t really understand Finn’s weird obsession with this project anyway.

They get into their beginning formation, facing each other with the ball in the middle like some kind of weird dodgeball game. Yeah, maybe this football thing isn’t going to last. He really has no idea what’s going on here. Kurt kicks the ball, and the game is off. Everyone’s running around and Kurt’s just doing his best not to get hit. He’s wearing white pants after all.

Finn and Puck run around a lot for two hours. Who knows what’s happening there? They’re back in their little formation thing with those weird squat poses and Finn’s yelling some words that Kurt never managed to memorize the meaning of. The game isn’t going well. Finn calls for a time out and looks around at his teammates.

“We gotta do it.”

“We’ll be jokes for the rest of our high school lives. You’re branding us as some big gay team of dancing gays.” Of course Puck is the one to object. He definitely isn’t the worst of the jocks, but he’s always the loudest and most obnoxious.

“We’re already jokes! I don’t wanna be a Lima loser for the rest of my life.”

Puck turns around at that. It almost looks like he’s eyeing the cheerleaders. His feeble concussed brain is probably working overtime to guess his chances of scoring if they win the game.

Some kid on the other team who’s been yelling yo mama jokes the whole game calls out to Puck. His response is off putting for a number of reasons, but at least it seems to shut up the other team. “Hey, ankle grabber. I had sex with your mother. No, seriously. I cleaned your pool, and then I had sex with her in your bed. Nice Star Wars sheets.” He turns to Finn and nods, “Let’s do it, captain.”

Finn makes a motion with his hand and music is blaring through the loudspeakers. The execution of the routine is… what he expected considering how little practice they had actually had. But, it does the job. The other team stands stock still, minuscule brains likely spinning at such a display.

Suddenly the ball is in play and everyone is running. Finn throws the ball. Puck catches it. Everything is very dramatic and involves a lot of cheering. Finally, Kurt’s being called back onto the field. This is easy. He can do it in his sleep. He just has to keep calm and focus on the routine. He knows it like the back of his hand. Step. Point. Swivel. Kick.

Next thing he knows, everyone’s screaming, and he’s being buried in football players. For an instant, his fight or flight instincts kick in and he tenses, ready for the blows to start landing, but the worst he’s getting is the unavoidable jostling that comes with what’s essentially a mosh pit of shoulder-padded teenagers.

In the locker rooms afterwards, he looks up to see none other than Noah Puckerman standing next to him.

“Hey man. Congrats. Um… listen I know your little singing club is like gay as all hell or whatever, but, like, you’ve got chicks, right?”

Something about his face looks off. Kurt can’t tell what, but he knows there’s something else going on there. He’s nervous, but he knows that if Puck wants to hurt him, he'll just do it. A lot can be said about Noah Puckerman, but he definitely doesn’t resort to scheming to show someone he doesn’t like them.

“Yes? I mean, we have ‘chicks’ in Glee Club. You've met most of them,” replies Kurt. They both know that his chances with any girl in Glee Club were about one in a million, but Kurt isn’t dumb enough to say that out loud.

“Cool. I guess I’ll see you at the next meeting.”

Weird. Kurt really doesn’t have the time to try to unpack any of that. Oh well. Some mysteries can wait. Kurt has to find his dad.

The car ride home is more or less silent. This is pretty normal. His dad doesn’t usually talk much, and Kurt’s always stuck in his head. The silence doesn’t bother him, but he knows he needs to spit it out sooner or later. He still can’t believe this worked. What started as a desperate cover up has become a desperate reality, which has somehow all worked out in his favor. He looks over at his dad who has a faint smile on his face. It’s going to be now or never. He has to take advantage of the adrenaline high and this good energy between he and his dad. For once, he’s actually feeling kind of brave.

He’s just starting his nighttime routine when his dad comes down the stairs.

“Nighttime skin care is a big part of my post-game ritual.”

“I'm not even going to pretend I know how to respond to that, but, uh… I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt. Your mom would be too, if she could see you now.”

“Thanks,” whispers Kurt. His dad’s turning to leave. It’s now or never, but he barely feels like he can breathe, let alone get any substantial words out. He swallows hard, before choking out, “Dad?”

He takes a deep breath, stands up, and spits it out.

“I…have something that I wanna say. I’m glad that you’re proud of me, but I don’t wanna lie anymore. Being a part of the Glee Club and football has really showed me that I can be anything, and… what I am… is… I’m gay.”

“I know,” is all his dad says. Ok. That isn’t the reaction he expected.

“Really?”

“I’ve known since you were three. All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels. I guess I’m not totally in love with the idea, but if that’s who you are, there’s nothing I can do about it. And I love you just as much. Okay?”

He opens his arms and it’s all Kurt can do to fall into them and try not to cry. He feels his dad take a deep breath and squeeze him tighter before saying, “I'm really glad you told me, Kurt.”

Kurt doesn’t trust himself to speak so he just nods and sits back down at his vanity. His dad turns to go, but he stops at the foot of the stairs.

“You’re sure, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. I’m sure.”

“I’m just checking.”

Kurt smiles. Maybe everything’s going to be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Like Tina, we moved Mike and Matt to the 2nd Generation. Because of that, we lowered the number of members required to participate in Sectionals to ten.
> 
> Since Tina is no longer present here, the plot of Rachel leaving the Glee Club to audition for Cabaret (or just Cabaret in general) was cut. Instead that plot was replaced by Rachel losing her solo spot in the Annual School Concert (Taking Chances) to Artie (Last Name). Rachel also lost her lead part in Don’t Stop Believin’ to Quinn (as the second part of her punishment).
> 
> Next chapter (The Rhodes Not Taken) will be written by our final author Micah, who is taking over the role of Ian Brennan. It's essentially an entirely Will episode, so they've taken some... creative liberties with the plot. Just trust us on that part.
> 
> And if you have any feedback for Oliver, he'd love to hear it! Thank you guys so much. We honestly still can't believe we're doing this.


	5. The Rhodes Not Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Quinn told Finn that she's pregnant but she didn't tell him that he's not the father. Puck is. Kurt tried out for the football team to impress his father and actually ended up helping the Titans win their first game this season. Puck joined the Glee Club and Rachel's still pissed she lost her lead for Don't Stop Believin' to Quinn.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're back to having to rewrite very Will-heavy episodes. This is our last writer Micah's first chapter and they were a little... over-enthusiastic with changing the April Rhodes plot. Which is why you might have noticed already that this chapter is double the length of most of our earlier chapters.
> 
> Also, this chapter is written in present tense. Both Oliver and Micah prefer to write in present tense but since Cecelia wrote the first chapter in past tense, they tried to be consistent. Oliver braved through it but Micah stopped caring almost immediately. Which is why all of the earlier chapters have been edited to use present tense. No plot changes, though. Just tense.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

Quinn Fabray is sharp. She was sharp the run-through before and she’s sharp now.

Rachel tried to ignore her and she was successful. The first few times. She was content the first few times, standing next to Kurt and hearing his grating countertenor voice and being blinded by his sequined skinny jeans. Santana’s ponytail slaps her in the face every time they transition into Quinn’s parts but that’s okay. From her place in the chorus, she can still see the back of Finn’s beautiful head, and that was enough to keep her going...

If it wasn’t for Quinn’s shrill voice going sharp at the word ‘cheap’ during her part in the second verse of _Don’t Stop Believin’._ This time it’s so bad that Rachel has to squeeze her eyes shut as she cringes.

“I’m sorry, can we stop?” Quinn says. She thanks Brad before turning to Rachel. “I’m sorry, is there something wrong?”

Rachel matches her smile. She’s not embarrassed to admit that she’s been practicing the trademark Quinn Fabray saccharine smile in the mirror before going to bed at night. Her dads always told her that exposure therapy never really works but when it does, it does. “Actually, there is. You’re sharp.”

Quinn’s voice gets dangerously low. “Don’t you think Mr. Schue would say something if I was?”

“Rachel’s right,” Mr. Schue says, “You were a little pitchy this time Quinn. Try to take a quick breath before ‘and’. The smell of wine, breathe, and cheap perfume. Take it from the top. Artie, good work on the beginning riff but I need you to bring it out more.”

They reset and Rachel takes her place at the back of their formation. Yes, she fought and fought for Mr. Schue to place her, at the very least, on the other side of Santana in the second row, but she was relegated to the third. Santana has tried to trip her on more than one occasion but Rachel has always been good on her feet.

This time she keeps an extra-close eye on Quinn, making note of which words she mumbles and which beats she’s hurrying through. Something’s off. There has to be a pattern somewhere, and when she eventually finds it, she’s surprised to see that Finn’s the one causing the problems, not Quinn. Despite all the work he’s put into learning the choreography, he’s still running a few beats behind everyone. No one else seems to notice or care enough to say anything except for her and Quinn, who’s struggling to change her own pace to match his.

“Mr. Schue, I’m sorry but I have to say something,” Rachel says.

He cuts the music off with a wave of his hand. “Yes Rachel?”

She ignores how exasperated he sounds. Sure, this was their fifteenth run-though in the past thirty minutes but they’re so close to being perfect and Rachel knows they’ll all be thankful when they kill it at the concert tomorrow night.

“As much as I think Quinn’s doing a good job of taking over my part, I don’t think Finn’s used to singing with someone else.” Everyone in the room groans. “Which is nothing for him to be ashamed of, it happens to even the biggest stars, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that tomorrow night will be one of the most important nights this season because if we choke here then we might as well say goodbye to Sectionals.”

“And your solution is?” Artie asks, sounding bored. She’s stationed on the side with her guitar sitting in her lap and hasn’t moved since the start of practice. Brittany wanted to give Artie her own personal choreography but Mr. Schue cut it for time. 

“I think you should give me my part back, and thank you for asking Artie.” She says the second sentence hastily under her breath.

Mercedes crosses her arms over her chest. “We’re giving the girl who embarrassed us in front of the entire school her part back?”

“Not to mention she can’t even reach the notes she’s calling Quinn out on. Don’t look at me like that Rachel. We can all tell when you break your voice,” Kurt says. “I think someone else should take over.”

“Lady Hummel’s right. As much as I love you Q, I’m sick of hearing Finn’s big meaty thighs rub against each other every time he walks in front of me to get to you. Mr. Schue should let someone else have a turn. Like Britt,” Santana says, her voice dipping affectionately as she mentions Brittany, who gives her a small smile and leans over to connect their pinkies.

“Oh hell no. We are not letting one of the newbies take over our song. Give it to me or Artie, we’ve been here the longest,” Mercedes says, shooting a grin at Artie when she gives her finger guns.

Kurt sighs. “Guys I meant me.”

Mr. Schue claps his hands together. “Enough. I’m not taking away Finn’s part. He’s the only one who knows it comfortably and we’re running out of time. The concert is tomorrow night and we haven’t even gone through _Last Name_ today. Which is staying Artie’s,” he adds on sternly.

Rachel pushes through Santana and Brittany. Santana nearly pulls her back by the collar of her shirt but Rachel manages to anchor herself to Finn’s side before she does. “I happen to know my part pretty well Mr. Schue.”

“As do I,” Quinn says, appearing at Finn’s other side. She tries pulls him away from Rachel, but Rachel just follows them.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Finn asks.

“Shut it Finn,” Quinn and Rachel say at the same time. They share a look of surprise before letting go of him, also infuriatingly in sync.

“You know what? Fine. Rachel, I’m giving you the chance to take your lead back, but first I want to hear you sing Finn’s part with Quinn.” When he sees Rachel’s shocked face, he smiles. “I was there when you two first sang this song and I know you know how to sing both parts. I want to see you sing with Quinn and I’ll make a decision afterwards.”

“I thought you said Finn was the only one who knew his part?” Quinn asks.

“Comfortably,” he reminds her, “I don’t expect Rachel to be perfect here. I expect her to be at the same level you are now with your part. Places everyone.”

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. If there;s anything she can do well, it's competition. Her dads enrolled her in every single dance and acting class the state would let a black father put his daughter in. She and Finn switch positions. Mr. Schue was right. She knows every word of this song front and back.

So why is she still nervous?

The music starts and Rachel takes a moment to familiarize herself with her surroundings. Artie to her left, Santana behind her, and her future in front of her.

_“Just a small-town girl  
Livin' in a lonely world  
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere”_  


She hits every note flawlessly. All she has left to do is walk to the front and wait for Quinn, who she hears take a breath.

_“Just a city boy  
Born and raised in South Detroit  
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere”_

Rachel sneaks a glance at her. One, two, three beats too early. Quinn tilts her head down to take another breath. She starts her next note one, two beats too early. When they round the corner to face each other, Rachel steps forward one beat too early. It’s all too early. Rachel can feel everyone’s eyes on her when she reaches out for Quinn’s waist.

“Wait,” Quinn says, reaching out and grabbing Rachel’s wrist before she can touch her. “You’re going too fast.”

She yanks her hand out of Quinn’s grasp. “You lost. You stopped the song.”

“You lost the second you got offbeat.”

“You guys both sucked,” Noah complains, “That was the worst one we’ve done so far and I haven’t even been paying attention.”

“He’s right. You were both awful. But if Mr. Schue has to pick someone, Rachel was clearly the winner,” Kurt says.

Noah groans. “As much as I like seeing two girls get their claws out, I’m sick of hearing these two fight all the time. Give the thing to someone else. Hell, I’ll even do it. I read on the internet that chicks dig it when two guys sing to each other.”

Mr. Schue throws his hands up in defeat. “Alright, Puck gets it. That’s final.”

“Mr. Schue!” Rachel sputters as Quinn starts spouting protests. Noah just shrugs, fist-bumping a very confused Finn. 

“That’s final,” he repeats, already walking back to the piano to grab new sheet music.

After taking a moment to compose herself, Rachel thanks Mr. Schue when he assigns her to help Noah for the rest of practice. She can make this work. A plan already forming in her head, Rachel skips over to Noah to start teaching him the notes. Her eyes catch Kurt’s. He frowns, obviously disapproving but saying nothing as he turns his attention to Mr. Schue trying to comfort Quinn. 

Rachel has to be careful. She can fool the rest of them but she has a feeling Kurt can see right through her.

Noah’s head jerks up and Rachel breaks out of her thoughts fast enough to catch a glimpse of Quinn as she rushes out the door. They all look at Finn. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Bad breakfast burrito.”

Finn grabs Mr. Schue by the arm to talk to him privately. Rachel spends the rest of practice in her head. To her surprise, Noah’s a fast learner and he gets to a point where he sounds decent before Mr. Schue ends practice. Of course, it doesn’t matter if Noah sounds decent or not.

Later that day, she pays a visit to the school’s library and checks out every single yearbook issued after the McKinley High Glee Club was formed. The student librarian didn’t know what she was talking about when she mentioned the Glee Club but Rachel left the library smiling, knowing that soon, he would know. The whole school will know, and she can stop getting slushied every time she walks from one class to another.

***

The only place that feels natural to do this is the choir room. Rachel decided to skip lunch and spend that free period flipping through the yearbooks. It doesn’t take her long to find Mr. Schue. Somehow his hair looked even greasier than it does now.

“Practice doesn’t start for another six hours.”

Rachel looks up to find that Kurt walked in without her noticing. He looks over her shoulder at the yearbooks, his feather boa tickling the back of her neck.

“Is that real?” she asks.

He looks down. “Yeah, my dad likes to hunt in his free time and I didn’t want the deer pelts to go to waste.”

“Not your pants, the boa.”

“Oh, no. I got this from Party City.” He tosses the loose end back over his shoulder. “Rachel, I know Finn’s ignoring you right now, but looking up pictures of Mr. Schue when he was younger is a new low. Even for you.”

He laughs as Rachel’s nose scrunches up in disgust. Making an offhand comment on how she would look good with bangs, Kurt listens intently as Rachel lays out her plan. One, she looks through old yearbooks to find a star to rival herself from when the Glee Club was at its best. Two, she tracks them down and begs them to come back to McKinley and watch them perform on the basis that the Glee Club has reformed. Three, tell Principal Figgins that Mr. Schue did something heinous so he can get fired. And lastly, replace him with Glee Club legend as director of the New Directions.

She takes a deep breath but as she starts going into the second phase of her plan, which includes trying to get Quinn to say something antisemitic to her, Kurt shushes her by placing a finger on her lips.

“So this isn’t about the Glee Club,” he says, “This is about your crazy obsession with Quinn Fabray.”

“I’m not obsessed with her!” she insists.

Kurt doesn’t look convinced. “Either way, your plan is deranged and I’m not letting you snuff out our chances at Sectionals.” He turns and starts walking in the direction of Mr. Schue’s office. 

“Wait!” Rachel calls out. She has to think quickly. He humors her by looking back as an idea pops into her head. Bingo. “Don’t you want to sing a solo for Sectionals?”

“Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?”

Thank God Kurt’s as shallow as she thinks he is. “If you help me get,” she takes a quick glance at the yearbook currently sitting open on the piano, “April Rhodes to come to the concert tonight, I can guarantee she’ll give you a solo at Sectionals.”

“And why would she do that, exactly?”

“Kurt, you and I both know that Mr. Schue is unable to see or hear any real talent.” She has to think carefully here. One wrong slip of the tongue and she’ll lose him. If that means grabbing things out of thin air, so be it. “I mean, putting Quinn in as my replacement in _Don't Stop Believin'_ when Mercedes is clearly the better choice in almost every way possible? April Rhodes was the star of her team’s seasons. If anyone is going to realize how much of an asset you are to the team, it’s her.”

"As great as that sounds, and as much as I would love for that to be real, let’s be honest with ourselves Rachel. Even if this somehow works and April Rhodes does all the things you say she will, I’m not the face she’ll want for this club.” He looks out towards the chair, zeroing in on the spots Rachel and Finn normally sit in.

“But we can change that,” Rachel pushes, “Maybe not right away but we’re not going to get anywhere with Mr. Schue. Come on, please?”

They share a long moment of silence and Rachel’s nearly resigned herself to going on her own when Kurt finally says something. “You’re impossibly both endearing and irritating at the same time.

“So you’ll do it?”

Kurt nods. “Go back to the library and use the computers there to get as much information as you can. I have to talk to Miss Pillsbury anyway so I can ask her about it.”

Rachel can’t believe that worked. Nothing will ever surpass her talking Finn into joining but she considers this a big win nonetheless. She all but pushes Kurt out the door, afraid he’ll change his mind if they stand there long enough.

***

_Help, I have no outstanding qualities. The future scares me and I’m not ready for it. Everyone around me is so much more talented, I can barely take care of myself, and my personality is just a culmination of what I find attractive in people._

“Okay, so which one of these appeals to you the most?” Miss Pillsbury asks.

Finn blinks. “How did they fit all the words on this one?”

“Finn,” Miss Pillsbury says, pushing the pamphlets closer to him, “I can tell something’s been bothering you. Will talked to me earlier about how you’re not sure what you’re going to do after graduation. I get it. I still struggle with the fact that I can’t control what happens to me. Also blink again if you can hear me. Every time I talk you make this face and it looks like you’re in pain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh!” She points at him. “See you’re doing it right now.”

“Miss Pillsbury I don’t know how pamphlets are supposed to help me. And it kinda sucks that Mr. Schue talked to you about me without me knowing.” Finn was trying to focus on Mr. Schue’s Spanish lesson when Miss Pillsbury stopped by to pick him up. He can’t stop staring at the framed picture of Mr. Schue on her desk. Puck told him they might be doing it, but every time he thinks about it he feels like he’s about to hurl. “I know you’re the guidance counselor and you’re supposed to help me with stuff but… “

Finn didn’t want to tell Mr. Schue about Quinn but her rushing out of the room during practice yesterday was enough to make him start panicking. He doesn’t know how to bring it up with her yet so he’s just been avoiding her, and if he has to be completely honest, that’s not the only reason why. He’s used to seeing Quinn and Rachel fight but yesterday was something else. Finn doesn’t care who he sings with. He just wants to see his girlfriend and his... friend get along? Is Rachel his friend? They almost kissed that one time which was super awkward.

“He’s just trying to look out for you Finn,” Miss Pillsbury reassures him. “Now, I know the football team has been doing very well ever since Kurt joined but I wouldn’t rely on a football scholarship on its own. Your grades have improved so you could go down that route but I want to suggest something else.”

She reaches into her desk and pulls out another pamphlet, _I’m bad at everything but I can sort of sing,_ along with more pamphlets full of scholarship information.

“You think I could get a singing scholarship?” Finn asks, picking up one of the pamphlets.

“It’s definitely a possibility, and if you do well at Regionals maybe you can generate some interest.”

“But we sound so bad right now,” he admits, “Quinn and Rachel keep fighting and neither of them will listen to me. I think Quinn wants to quit but if she doesn’t, Rachel will. Do you think we can win without Rachel?”

Miss Pillsbury smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “ ...sure. You still might want to, uh, help them along the healing process.”

Finn nods. He grabs a handful of pamphlets and shoves them in his bag. Quinn’s still in AP Chemistry and won’t be out until lunch. If he can find Rachel before he has to pick up Quinn then maybe he can get them to all have lunch together. Thanking Miss Pillsbury, he steps out of her office only to bump right into Kurt.

“Oh, sorry dude. Hey, nice job at practice yesterday. You lasted seven minutes before giving up when we were doing warmups. That’s a new record for you.” He lifts his hand up to high-five Kurt but quickly lowers it when he sees Kurt flinch.

“Thanks Finn,” Kurt says. He tries to duck under him into Miss Pillsbury’s office but his scarf catches on the door handle. 

Kurt lets out a yelp when the scarf tightens around his neck. Wanting to keep Miss Pillsbury from having a panic attack, Finn rushes to free him. He manages to unwrap the scarf and grab Kurt’s arm before he can fall over. 

He’s shaking so hard Finn can feel the vibrations run up his own arms. “You cool dude?”

Kurt shakes his head. “Look Finn, I really appreciate everything you’ve done so far to help me but please just leave me alone.”

Finn can tell Kurt’s looking at his Letterman jacket. Holding the scarf out to him, he frowns when Kurt tells him to keep it.

***

“So there I was, on stage, dressed like Liza Minnelli, a spotlight on me as I sing the beginning of _Cabaret_ , when Mr. Ryerson stood up in the audience and threw a tomato at me.”

Kurt nods, pretending to listen. It took them a while to pinpoint April Rhodes’ exact location. Miss Pillsbury gave him her phone number but Miss Rhodes must have deactivated it at some point. Rachel barely found any information on her online aside from her MySpace account and Kurt can’t believe he let her talk him into this. Every house they’ve walked by this strip has looked exactly the same. Rachel’s spent most of the trip talking about the dream she had last night. He stopped paying attention after she started talking about Finn. 

He scratches at his neck. The thought that he could have died earlier only for Finn Hudson of all people to swoop in and save him is almost repulsive to him.

“Hey.” Rachel elbows him in the side. “You never told me how it went with your dad.”

“How do you know about that? Was it Mercedes?” he asks, sighing when she nods, “It went fine. Why do you even care?”

She frowns. “We’re on the same team Kurt. I need to know what’s going on in your life and if there’s a chance something could affect your performance at Sectionals. You know, I’m more than happy to help you with anything. I have two gay dads, one of them black, and the moment I finally got the courage to talk about it, they were already telling me that they were fully accepting of my se-”

“Serious plan of becoming a Broadway actress,” he finishes. “I know Rachel. You tell us that at least once a week.”

Rachel pouts and Kurt can’t help but laugh. She has been absolutely insufferable lately but not nearly as much as Quinn Fabray. He doesn’t know if she even knows his name. It was bad enough having Puckerman be in the same room as him, let alone it being one of the only rooms he feels safe in at school. Now he has to spend most of his time in that room listening to Quinn Fabray’s mediocre voice singing the lead he should have gotten after Rachel botched _Push it._

The only way he knew they found the right house was Rachel’s frantic slapping of his arm. She rushes forward to ring the doorbell. The door opens and Kurt gags.

It smells like they just walked into a bar. The woman who answered the door looks faintly like the girl Rachel pointed to in the yearbook. She leans against the doorway and swirls what Kurt suspects is wine around in a red plastic cup.

“Hello Rachel,” the woman says.

Rachel perks up. “Miss Rhodes? You recognized me just from the pictures on MySpace account?”

“Mm.” She takes a long sip out of her cup. “Nope. Just a guess. Also don’t call me Miss Rhodes, it makes me feel old. Come in.”

“Rachel,” Kurt starts but Rachel scampers in without a second thought.

The inside of the house looks just as nice as the outside. Most of the furniture and wall fixtures are ugly on their own but together they sort of work. It reminds Kurt of the Glee Club. April stops them in the dining room. She tips her glass to Rachel, who shakes her head, before offering it to Kurt. He declines. “So, which one of your dads did I sleep with?”

“Rachel,” Kurt repeats. Rachel shushes him with a finger in the same way he did to her before and gently pushes him back to talk to April face-to-face.

“Nice. You’re pretty cute so I bet your dad was a looker,” April says. She smiles to herself.

He’s already tired of this. “No, you didn’t sleep with her dad because he’s gay and married to her other dad. You didn’t sleep with him either,” he says before she has a chance to open her mouth, “Or mine.”

“Kurt’s right. April, we came by to visit you because we want to invite you to our school’s annual concert tonight. We go to McKinley, just like you did. In fact, we’re also in this year’s newly reformed Glee Club,” Rachel says, a hint of pride working its way into her words.

April tilts her head back, laughing so hard that Kurt can’t even imagine how much damage she’s doing to her voice. “I should have known. You two aren’t the first to try and track me down after I left McKinley. Two of my old teammates Will and Terri found me a few years ago.”

“Will Schuester?” Kurt tries.

“Yeah! That’s the one. He came with his bitch of a wife to try and get me to save their failing marriage. She paid me to go along with her plan to sap money out of him by faking a pregnancy.”

She tips whatever’s left in her cup into her mouth. Rachel’s smile widens. “Well, I’m glad to say that Mr. Schuester is now happily divorced and directing the Glee Club.”

April chokes. She spits what she had in her mouth right back into her cup. “So Will’s still kicking it over there huh? Alright I’ll come to your concert but I want to see him before it starts. We have some history together and a few grudges I have to settle.” She sets her cup down on the dining table. “Hey, y’all want to sing a song together? It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

“Yes!” Rachel squeals. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, this is so exciting! Do you know any songs from the musical _Cabaret_? I don’t know why I’m asking, of course you do. You’re April Rhodes. Would it be okay for us to do _Maybe This Time?_ Our school’s production of it got canceled.”

“Yeah,” April clears her throat. “How’s it go again?" 

_“Maybe this time, I'll be lucky.  
Maybe this time, he'll stay... “_

Rachel barely starts the next line when the front door of the house swings open. A woman with a bright coral top and tacky beige skirt strolls in with a middle-aged couple on her heels. Her eyes narrow at the sight of April. “You. This is the third time this week.”

“Sandra, who is that? I thought this house was for sale,” the man accompanying her says, sounding more than a little scared.

“A squatter that’s snuck in here multiple times in the past six months. And now she’s brought her kids?!” Sandra yells, looking at Kurt and Rachel. “All of you need to leave right now before I call the cops.”

Kurt doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes Rachel’s hand and together they corral April out of the house, although he does make an effort to comment on Sandra’s ugly shoes before they do so. Once they’re back on the sidewalk, they both wait for an explanation from April. Instead of giving them one, April just laughs again.

“Wait, wait,” she says as Kurt tries to remember which direction they came from, “Before we go back, do y’all want to have a little fun?”

Rachel nods, looking at Kurt pointedly. He begrudgingly says yes.

***

Mercedes shares a look with Artie, who just shrugs in an artful display of apathy. Artie tilts her head to the right and Mercedes follows it to Finn, who is trying his hardest not to look like he’s falling asleep. Quinn smacks him lightly on the chest. Finn grunts and lurches forward, knocking his head against Puck’s. 

Santana laughs. She stops when Quinn shoots her a glare but her smile doesn’t leave her face. “Wanky.”

Mr. Schue sighs. He’s been staring at the white board for ten full minutes.

“Why are all of you so quiet?” Brittany asks as she looks around the room, “Did you get my email about voice box replacement surgery? I tried to do it with Lord Tubbington and it didn’t work, the doctor said mine was too infected.”

“Mr. Schue can we get on with this? I have... special plans later,” Artie says with a wink.

Mr. Schue turns to look at them and even from where Mercedes is sitting, she can tell how tired he is. He tries to flick the dry erase marker into the air and catch it like he always does but this time he fumbles the catch. It rolls out of his reach and he doesn’t even bother to try to get it.

“Look, I’m sorry guys.” He pulls out a chair and straddles it. “It’s just that I’m in a funk.”

Mercedes leans back in her chair as Mr. Schue does what he does best: waste their time by talking about his personal life. The others already have their own ways of dealing with it. Puck tries his hardest to rile up Santana and Quinn tries to cuddle with Finn while quietly reciting the rosary. Usually Mercedes trades jokes with Artie but she sat up on the riser today because Kurt wanted to talk to her. He doesn’t like sitting on the ground floor because the vents are right above the seats and it’s a fire hazard with all the hairspray he uses.

Speaking of Kurt, Mercedes makes sure that Mr. Schue is still talking before pulling out her phone. Still no new messages.

**Mercedes**  
kurt elizabeth hummel you better be dead or smth bc im losing my mind out here

**Kurt**  
gross. don’t call me that.

**Mercedes**  
you still with berry?

**Kurt**  
yeah fashion emergency.  
also i can’t believe you told rachel about me and my dad.

**Mercedes**  
you let me tell brittany

**Kurt**  
that’s because she was there when he walked in on us.  
and i knew she wouldn’t tell anyone if I bribed her, i can’t bribe rachel.

“Mercedes.”

She jolts. Mr. Schue is staring right at her, along with the rest of the Glee Club. She chuckles nervously. “Sorry Mr. Schue. I was texting Kurt. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Same,” Brittany says, “Brown-haired Quinn isn’t here either.”

All Quinn does is smile and hold onto Finn tighter. 

Puck snorts. “Maybe Kurt and Rachel are ditching to you know, tsk tsk,” he verbally clicks, licking his bottom lip.

“There’s no way they’re hooking up. Kurt’s gay,” Mercedes reminds him.

Santana rolls her eyes. “And? Rachel’s manish enough, even for my tastes. As long as I can zip her mouth shut. And put a bag over her head.”

“Wait, I thought it was the other way around,” Brittany says.

“What?”

“I thought Rachel liked Kurt because he looks like a gir-”

“Alright that’s enough,” Mr. Schue says, trying to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes with the palm of his hand. “We need Rachel and Kurt here, the concert is tonight and we’re nowhere near ready. Can I let you guys in on a secret? The annual school concert was where I first asked my ex-wife Terri out and I’m feeling sentimental about it. But that’s unfair to you guys. I know how important it is that we do well tonight. We need to get more members and I’m worried we’ve already lost both Rachel and Kurt.”

“Oh, Rachel will be back,” Quinn says, although her eyes are fixed on Finn as she says it. She wraps her arm around his and presses into his side. Finn smiles down at her. Or grimaces. Mercedes can’t tell.

She feels her phone buzz in her pocket.

 **Kurt**  
vodka tastes like my acne cleanser.

**Mercedes**  
omg

**Kurt**  
wait no i don’t use acne cleanser.  
you didn’t read that.

“Mr. Schue, I think we should still do it. I mean, we’ve done really embarrassing stuff already and look!” Finn gestures to Puck. “Beyoncé got us Puck and Rachel rubbing up on me got us my girlfriend. Uh, hold on that wasn’t wh-”

“What Frankenstein is trying to say,” Santana thankfully interrupts, “is that we’ve already lost any shred of dignity we had. So let’s just do the stupid concert and Puck can sing his dumb lead.”

“Thanks babe.” Puck winks at her. 

Mr. Schue thinks for a moment before slowly nodding. He claps his hands together before telling them they’re right. Before he can run up to the board, he pauses and looks down at his bare hand. “We’re out of markers. Okay, everyone hold on. I’ll be right back, I need to buy some more.”

As soon as Mr. Schue’s out of the room, Artie rolls forward and grabs the marker from under her chair. She tosses it to the trash can. The rest of the club whoops when it hits the rim and tumbles in. After Artie gracefully accepts the applause, everyone starts packing up. Mercedes checks her phone to see if Kurt messaged her again. 

_99+ new messages from Kurt_

She hears her name again and slides her phone into her back pocket. If Kurt wants to ignore her then two can play at that game. No one plays Mercedes Jones.

“Mercedes,” Artie repeats, “Are we still on for bowling?”

Mercedes smiles. Ever since they ran into each other at the bowling rink a few weeks ago, they’ve made an effort to go together whenever they have the chance. Mercedes has tried to get Kurt to come but he’d rather sit by and watch. Which was fine but it still made them feel weird. Artie bounces up and down with excitement when Mercedes gestures towards the door.

“I love bowling. Can we go too?” Brittany asks, looking at Santana. She pouts when Santana shakes her head and that seems to get Santana to change her mind. “Yay. We should give the moon goddess a ride though.”

“She doesn’t need your h-” Mercedes starts, making a noise of surprise when Artie rolls in front of her, “Yeah, that would be great! I mean, yes. Normally I use moonlight to power my sweet ride but the moon isn’t out right now so... _shut up Mercedes I’m low on gas money._ ”

Brittany agrees solemnly as Santana glares at her. 

Puck hops up. “Alright geeks, I’m off to clean Mrs. Bennett’s pool. It keeps getting dirty for some reason but honestly? The Puckster doesn’t mind getting a little dirty when it comes to cash. Dude, Finn, you should come with me this time.”

Finn shakes his head. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he helps Quinn up. “Sorry bro. I’m chilling with Quinn at her house and helping her prep for the concert.”

“Change of plans.” Quinn slips her fingers through her hair. She finds her ponytail and snaps it off, lets her hair fall perfectly over her shoulders. Her gaze sweeps over them. She grins. “We’re all going bowling, and you’re coming with us Noah.”

***

While Rachel couldn’t stand sitting at that bar for more than a few minutes, it was still fun to watch Kurt try to take down a shot. Rachel’s never tasted any alcoholic drinks, that’s something that’s reserved for a very special occasion like her wedding or whenever she first realizes that she might be throwing her life away with this whole acting thing, so she spent most of her time there listening to whatever was playing on the jukebox.

Keeping track of the time, Rachel estimated that practice would be about over by the time they get back to McKinley and she was right. They’re on the front steps when April hesitates. She takes one look at the heavy, metal doors and steps back. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t go in there.”

“What’s wrong?” Rachel asks. They’re so close.

“I... I didn’t graduate,” she admits. Behind her, Rachel hears Kurt gasp and she can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. “I hitched my star to the wrong wagon. Me and my high school sweetheart Vinny were convinced we were gonna be stars so we dropped out of school and hitchhiked our way to the Broadway.”

Broadway. Rachel feels her blood run cold. For the first time, she really looks at April. Her dirty clothes and perpetual alcohol breath. 

“And we ended up in Cleveland slinging hash at Ralph’s Bait Shop and Waffle house.”

“I- but you’re April Rhodes!” Rachel says, “You were the star of the Glee Club, you had such a bright future ahead of you.”

She laughs. “That’s what Will said. There was a time when I was the biggest star around here. It was the most important thing to me and I pushed everyone away until suddenly I was in Cleveland with a pair of mixed-race twins and a man who was sleeping with someone on the side. I tried to ignore Vinny’s side-girl but she kept coming back, and it was only a matter of time before she convinced him leave me and the kids to be with her.”

Kurt walks up and slings an arm over Rachel’s shoulders. “Wow, Rachel. Can you imagine doing that to som-”

“Kurt maybe you should sit down.”

April helps her set him on the ground, leaning his back against the doors. “You remind me of myself, you know,” she says to Rachel. “You’ll probably be even bigger of a star than I ever was. Just, don’t do what I did. I bet there are people who really care about you-”

“She’s right Rachel I’m one of them.”

“I’m making sure you never drink again.”

Kurt makes a face at that but doesn’t reply. April grabs her shoulders before she can say anything more to Kurt. “Honey, you can still kick ass but promise me you’ll pay more attention to the people who take time out of their day to talk to you.” 

Rachel thinks about Finn. Of course she pays attention to him. Too much attention, if she listens to Quinn Fabray, who also always finds a way to talk to her. Sure, it’s mostly to insult her or tell her to get away from Finn but it’s still something. She doesn’t know if that’s better or worse than someone ignoring her; she doesn’t like it when Artie ignores her or Mercedes gives a half-hearted response to anything Rachel asks her.

And Kurt? Kurt’s like Quinn but not as abrasive. Rachel looks down at him. This plan was almost entirely a disaster but she still thinks it was worth it, and she’s happy she was able to convince someone to come along with her. Even if she had to lie to do it. She’ll find a way to make it up to him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he says, his head lolling to the side, “I’ve never seen you look at someone like this aside from Finn and it’s weirding me out.”

“And both of you stop taking everything to heart! You’re still young,” April says, rubbing her hands together, “Now take me to Will and let’s get you ready for that concert of yours.”

***

The feedback from Mercedes’s mic is so loud Finn and Puck can hear it from the other side of the bowling rink. They just finished getting massacred by Artie and Mercedes, who ended the game with a near perfect score. Puck’s shoulders are still tense but Finn’s just relieved it’s all over. They would have lost either way; Artie and Mercedes seem like sore losers.

_“I hear the ticking of the clock  
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark”_

“That’s not even a good victory song. It’s so slow and sad,” Finn comments.

“Yeah,” Puck says. He had taken the bowling ball Finn was going to use in the last stretch of the game, before they realized they had no chance in winning, and has been staring at it ever since they lost. “Dude, do you think anyone has ever tried to eat one of these?”

_“I wonder where you are tonight  
No answer on the telephone”_

“Probably.”

“Finn, bro, come on.” Puck turns to put the bowling ball back onto the rack only to find out it’s full. He gives it to Finn instead. “You were stuck in your head that entire game. I know you and me could’ve crushed those two. What, are you worried about Quinn? Or is it Rachel this time?”

Quinn sat and watched their game at the beginning. She told Finn she didn’t want to play because she didn’t want to hurt the baby but promised him that she was praying for their victory nonetheless. At some point she moved to watch Santana or Brittany, or Santittany, as Santana likes to call them. Quinn decided to stay near those lanes when the two of them left to touch up their makeup in the bathroom.

Eventually Quinn made her way back to them and is now sitting at one of the karaoke bar’s tables.

“Dude can you blame me? My girlfriend’s pregnant.” Every time he says it, it becomes more and more real. He’s been watching those TV shows whose entire premise is their situation, and while it’s kinda nice to see other people struggling with it too, he realizes that there’s no way they can afford to take care of a baby on their own. His mom’s a single parent with a salary that just gets them by and Quinn refuses to tell her parents.

Puck keeps bringing up that he’s more than willing to pitch in money to help them. Which is super rad but also sorta weird. “And you’re both going to get through this, alright? I’m not just gonna let my bro become a Lima Loser because of some girl who forgot what a condom was.”

“Don’t say that, it was my fault too. How were we supposed to know what temperature we should have set the hot tub to?” Puck makes a face at that. “Yeah. Wait did I ever tell you it was a hot tub?”

“No,” he says, “And I’ll be real with you, I didn’t want to know.”

“I need to go talk to Quinn.” 

Puck rolls the bowling ball out of Finn’s hands and sets it on his lap. “Hold on. You saw how crazy she was yesterday. Run what you’re going to say to her by me. Wait let me just... “ He tucks the bowling ball under his shirt. Tossing his imaginary hair over his shoulder and placing a hand on his hip, Puck purses his lips in a way that really reminds Finn of Quinn. 

“This is super weird dude.”

“Yeah you’re right.” Puck stands up, letting the bowling ball drop out of his shirt. Somehow he misses both of their feet. “Go talk to her. I’m going to swing by the girls’ bathroom to grab Santana and Brittany. If I don’t come out in like, ten minutes, don’t come get me.”

Fist-bumping Puck for good luck, Finn makes his way to the karaoke bar, which is empty aside from Quinn, Artie, Mercedes, and the man working behind the karaoke machine. Quinn greets him with a smile. She scoots over as Finn grabs another chair to sit beside her.

“They sound so good,” she says, watching Artie and Mercedes intently. When the two of them see Finn, they share a look before smiling and pointing at him.

_“I never really cared until I met you  
And now it chills me to the bone”_

“Maybe I should have let Mr. Schue give them the duet,” she says. Finn doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he would say anyway. So he just takes her hand, squeezing it when she turns her warm smile to him.

“Santana and Brittany are still in the bathroom,” Quinn tells him, “I’m not calling them Santittany. I think that idea is stupid.”

“I don’t know. I kinda dig it,” Finn says.

“Of course you would.” She turns back to the stage. “What would ours even be? Finn but with a u?”

He laughs. “I like it.”

Quinn’s smile widens, and she looks down at her lap in embarrassment when Finn tries to find a way to say Fuinn without making it sound like Finn. They both turn to look at the entrance as Puck walks in. He pulls up his own chair to the table. Quinn stiffens.

Artie and Mercedes- Artcedes- finish their duet, belting out the last note. They all cheer: Finn clapping enthusiastically, Puck whistling as they leave the stage, and Quinn waving at them as if she was a single person lost in a sea of fans.

A hand finds itself on Finn’s shoulder and before he can turn around to see who it belongs to, Santana’s voice rings in his ears. “Hey Quinn. Puck. Lumps. Not to break up this happy little family meeting, but the concert starts in like two hours and we were supposed to be in the choir room twenty-two minutes ago.”

“I doubt Mr. Schue is back yet. Santana, Mercedes, Artie, and I sped ahead and bought all of the dry-erase markers we could find in the stores,” Brittany says.

“Yeah, and we signed you two up for a song anyway,” Mercedes says, pointing at Finn and Puck, “Now get your asses up there and sing _Don’t Stop Believin’._ I know you two haven’t been rehearsing.”

Quinn gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Puck runs up the ramp of the stage, tossing Finn a mic and tapping the end of his own. Finn breathes into his. Yeah, they both definitely work. Finn must have gotten Artie’s judging by all of the spit on the mic. Probably because she was trying to find a way to beatbox parts of the song.

“Hey,” Puck whispers, drawing the mic away from his mouth and turning it off, “What did you say to Quinn? She looks like she’s in a good mood.”

“I actually didn’t talk about the baby or anything.”

Puck shakes his head. “Dude, you two need to figure this out before the thing comes out of her.”

Finn grimaces. “Yeah, I know. She doesn’t want to tell her parents but I think she needs to. I’m not taking money out of your pool fund. I think I need to get a job or something.”

“Uh, Finn? Your mic’s on,” Artie calls out. 

The two of them whip their heads towards the crowd. Quinn’s face is expressionless as Finn looks down at the mic in his hand and the red light right under his fingers. She stands and when he turns his gaze back to her, her eyes darken.

“Please,” she says. Even though her eyes stay on him, it’s clear she’s talking to all of them, “Please don’t tell anyone. If they, if they find out they’ll- ” 

Her voice breaks. She covers her mouth with her hand and runs out of the karaoke bar. Santana and Brittany run after her. Finn’s too stunned to move, only breaking out of his daze when Puck slaps him on his back. “Nice going dude.”

“I’m dead,” Finn says, “I’m so dead.”

***

They managed to do it. Somehow, they managed to get through the entire concert without messing up.

Artie nailed _Last Name._ With April’s help, she was able to hit her high notes even when the choreography was at its hardest. Rachel’s never seen Artie this confident before. It definitely rubbed off on the rest of the team. They all looked at April like she was insane when she first brought out sheet music for Queen’s _Somebody to Love_ from one of the old folders Mr. Schue keeps around in the choir room. They knew they had no choice though, and actually got really into it near the end. For some reason Finn refused to sing _Don’t Stop Believin’._

Rachel ended up being right. April is a better directer than Mr. Schue, it's such a shame she left to try and 'straighten up'. She does have a road to Broadway that she needs to start going back down, after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” she says to Finn after the concert.

From the other side of the choir room, Kurt groans. He’s incredibly hungover, and he collapsed into a heap on the ground as soon as they walked back in. Mercedes tries to hand him a glass of water but when he swats it away, she threatens to dump it on his face.

“Uh, do you know what happened to him?” Finn asks.

“Growing pains?” she offers. “Anyway I just wanted to ask you why you didn’t want to sing _Don’t Stop Believin’_ tonight. It’s kind of your song.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t feeling it.”

Artie rolls in-between them with a bouquet of flowers on her lap. She high-fives a grinning Santana, who’s leaning against the piano and talking to Noah, before heading over to Mercedes and Kurt. Rachel can’t help herself. She looks around the room for Quinn but she’s nowhere to be found.

“She’s in the bathroom with Brittany,” Finn says. He chuckles when Rachel’s eyes widen. “You’re not really that subtle, you know.”

Rachel nervously plays with the end of her hair. “What do you mean?”

He takes her hand and tugs her away from the rest of the club members. “She doesn’t hate you. I know it looks like it but I’ve been dating her long enough to know when she hates someone. She hates the girl who started spreading rumors about Santana and Puck hooking up, Mrs. Doosenbury for giving her a B+ on a paper she knew she aced, and Mr. Schue for some reason, but she doesn’t hate you. I promise. Hey, look at me.” He squeezes her hand. “I promise. Do you hate her?”

She’s thought about that very question a lot. The answer always changes. Yesterday it was a yes and earlier it was a maybe, but now? Now April’s words are stuck in her head. 

“No,” she finally settles on saying.

Finn doesn’t push her to explain further. He just smiles, and Rachel can feel herself falling more and more in love with him.

“Get off of him.”

Finn reels away from her so fast it makes her head spin. Neither of them noticed when Quinn came back into the room. Everyone else stops talking.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Quinn’s voice is thick with emotion. She gets uncomfortably close to Rachel, so close that Rachel can see the cracked lines of well-worn makeup on her face. “Do you think this is some sort of twisted game? You’re such a stupid little girl. Why can’t you grow up and see that he’s not interested in you? That you can’t just bat your lashes and get whatever you want? I’m sick of it!”

“Q, stop. She’s not worth it,” Santana says.

“Stay out of this!” Quinn snaps. Her eyes are burning red. She looks at Rachel like she could light her on fire with a single sentence, and she has a hold on the match.

Suddenly Rachel can’t recall what April said to her earlier. Her entire field of vision is filled with Quinn’s eyes, welling with tears. Rachel looks to Finn for help but he’s just as shocked as she is. She feels her hands ball into fists. “What’s wrong with you? All we were doing was talking! I’m sick of this too. Of you always keeping me under surveillance and of you twisting every word I say into something you plan on using against me later!”

Quinn lets go of the match. “I’m pregnant, and Finn’s the father.”

All of the air rushes out of Rachel’s lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: the school concert mentioned in this episode is actually the lowest level of the show choir competition in canon, Invitationals. It's only seen in season 1 and never used again in the series. Which is why we changed it.
> 
> Micah's super sorry about the chapter length but if you guys like longer chapters like this, let us know. Micah had a blast writing the plots for this chapter from the ground up. Feedback from you guys really helps a lot.


	6. Vitamin D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Kurt and Rachel tracked down Glee Club legend April Rhodes to replace Will because Rachel’s upset that she lost her lead in Don’t Stop Believin’ to Quinn. It didn’t work out. Rachel and the rest of the Glee Club found out that Quinn’s pregnant but they still think Finn’s the father when really, it’s Puck. Yikes.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Schuester episode, but this time it was the other Schuester. Just say no, kids.
> 
> Also, some things may have been unclear the last few chapters so we added notes. Again, no plots have changed but if you've been following us from the beginning, it might be helpful to look back and read the notes. But here's a quicker tldr:
> 
> 1\. At the moment, Will doesn't know what the setlist for Sectionals will be, but he does want to do Don’t Stop Believin’. Right now, the leads for it are Finn and Puck (since Rachel lost it as punishment for doing Push it and Quinn is, busy).  
> 2\. Rachel already knows who Jesse St. James is but has not met him yet.  
> 3\. The Glee Club needs ten members to be able to compete at Sectionals. They only have nine right now. The concert in Rhodes was supposed to attract more members.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Rachel is furious with herself.

For as long as she’s known the girl, her desire to get out of Lima and become a star has been matched only by her desire to see Quinn Fabray get her comeuppance. The cruelty, the hypocrisy, the self-righteousness - Rachel’s always been able to bear it because she’s always known that the facade would eventually come crashing down. 

But not like this. It was never supposed to happen like this. 

She’s so distracted it takes her three tries to get her locker combination right, finally swinging it open and taking in the decorations that she put up so enthusiastically but now seem insultingly cheerful. 

There’s the photo of her dads, holding her hands on either side after her prize winning performance at her kindergarten graduation, surrounded by rainbow stickers because Rachel has been a supporter of Gay Pride since before she knew what being gay meant. There’s the bootleg Carmel High yearbook photo of Jessie St. James, to remind her of the nemesis she needs to measure herself against if she’s ever going to get anywhere. 

And in the corner, a Cheerios headshot of Quinn Fabray, decorated with devil horns since the first time the cheer captain made fun of her nose. 

She rips it off and shoves it into the skirt pocket her dads made for her. If only things were still that simple. 

“Olivia Newton-John is a better singer than Barbra Streissand.” 

Rachel flinches so hard she inadvertently slams the locker shut. She rounds on the boy who appeared by her side without her noticing. 

“Why would you say something so horrible?”

Kurt shrugs. “The five variations of ‘Hi, Rachel’ I tried first didn’t seem very effective.” He notices the tension in her posture and frowns. “Distracted, much?”

Rachel considers making something up but she instantly knows it’s no use. Kurt is too perceptive for that, and whether she likes it or not, he’s one of the only people she can really talk to about this. She lets her shoulders sink. 

“It’s Quinn. I’ve hated her for so long, just a few days ago we were fighting over a stupid lead spot, and now I just feel horrible for her. Yesterday I nearly hugged her. I just… I don’t know how to feel about her anymore.” 

Kurt gives her a long, measured look that’s impossible to read and honestly a little disconcerting. Finally he speaks.

“Under no circumstances should you initiate physical contact, that’s for sure. But I do recommend that you talk to her. Explain where you stand with Finn.” He catches the shift in her expression and hesitates. “Assuming you know that yourself.”

Finn. Right. As if this situation isn’t enough a mess already. 

“I know I’m in love with Finn, but it’s not like that’s something I can control. But I would never take him away from Quinn if they’re having a baby. I’m used to sacrificing relationships for art, why should this be any different?” 

Kurt seems to start to say something, but cuts himself off. Which is not the first time he’s done that with her. Rachel lets it go; her life's complicated enough as it is. If he doesn’t want to tell her what he really thinks of her, she can deal with that. 

“I think that’s a surprisingly mature outlook, Rachel. But you should probably go to class now.”

“Couldn’t the same be said for you?”

“I’m always fashionably late, Rachel. You’re not fashionably anything.” 

It’s an insult, but Rachel weirdly finds herself smiling as she turns away. This, at least, is the same as it ever was. 

There’s one more thing she has to say, though.

“Hey, Kurt?” she calls. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry about Rhodes not working out. I’ll find some other way to get you a solo. I promise.”

Kurt grins. “I appreciate it Rachel, but you shouldn’t give handouts to the competition. Pretty soon you’ll be trying to steal my solos.” 

It’s cute that Kurt thinks he can keep up with her, but she can’t say she doesn’t appreciate his confidence. 

“You’re on.”

***

Her day picks up from there. The success of the concert means it’s only a matter of time before they secure the tenth recruit they need for Sectionals, they’ve gotten around Figgins’ censorship on the technicality that any song can be about Jesus if you squint hard enough, and their performances have now been proven to work in front of an audience. The Cheerios have taken the ensemble to another level, which Rachel never would have anticipated, and what their male vocals lack in depth, they make up for in Finn’s charisma, Noah’s surprising effectiveness at maintaining a harmony, and Kurt’s unique countertenor and steadying experience.

Even Quinn has improved shockingly quickly, though it seems like a different lifetime when Rachel was calling her out for being slightly sharp. A lifetime where it was so easy to hate her. 

Quinn catches her staring a few times and fixes her with her best glare, but it doesn’t have the same impact as it used to. She knows Quinn doesn’t want her pity, and she knows that this shouldn’t erase all of the horrible things Quinn has done to her, or even just the fact that their personalities are completely incompatible. But she feels as if her heart is going to burst if she doesn’t say something to her.

So it’s a relief that when Rachel walks up to her after practice, Quinn doesn’t immediately storm past her, which she would have been fully capable of doing.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” The lack of hostility would be comforting if it hasn’t been replaced with a thousand yard stare that is somehow infinitely more painful. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For being so hard on you. Not just this past week, but… all these years.” Silence. She tries again. “How are you holding up?” 

Quinn manages a half smile of bitter irony. “Well, aside from the morning sickness and the ruined reputation and the prospect of losing the next eight months of my life, I’m doing just great.” 

“Do you want to get an abortion?” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop herself. 

She expects Quinn to erupt, but the girl just laughs. “Rachel, we live in Ohio.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s impossible. My dads have contacts at Planned Parenthood, and I know I could convince them to drive you to New York.” She makes the offer without hesitation, which on one level she knows is kind of insane, but she just can’t shake how wrong this all feels. How this just can’t be happening to Quinn Fabray. 

“You don’t get it.” Quinn still won’t look at her, but Rachel can feel the pain in her eyes regardless. “It’s not the law that’s stopping me. Even if I wanted to, and I’m not saying I do, the only thing that would ruin my life faster than having a bastard is aborting one.” 

She’s right, and Rachel’s always known this. Still, she keeps searching. “There must be something we can do.”

Quinn’s gaze finally focuses on her, her sadness turning to anger with frightening suddenness. “Why do you even care? When have I ever given you a single reason to give a damn about me, any more than you’ve given me one to give a damn about you?”

The words feel like a slap across the face. Some things never change. She tries to ignore the feeling of her heart closing up inside her chest. “I know we’re the furthest thing from friends. I don’t expect you to start liking me. But I want you to know that I’m not going to take Finn away from you. I do like him, and I was selfish before, but I wouldn’t do that to you. Whether you like it or not, you’re part of my team now. And I’m here for you.” 

All the fight drains from Quinn’s face as quickly as it arrived. “Please.” It’s barely a whisper. “Just go.” 

Rachel doesn’t try to argue. Neither of them need to get any more depressed.

***

“Guys, that was a deeply lackluster performance, I’m disappointed in you.” Mr. Schuester isn’t happy, but Puck doesn’t really understand why. He’s absolutely killing this lead. He’s never told anyone this, but he once sent in an audition tape when Journey needed a new lead singer. He figures it got lost in the mail, because otherwise he would obviously be on a world tour by now. But now he’s singing with his best bro, who has been with him since they were baby neighbors in the hospital, and it sounds awesome.

“Everyone in the back, those harmonies aren’t optional; Quinn, I know this is a tough time for you, but at least bother to go through the motions. And Finn, we can’t afford to have you slacking on the male vocals. You’re the engine that makes this club run, and if you don’t bring your best, it affects all of us.” 

Finn rubs his huge puppy dog eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Schue. Coach Shannon is really amping up the practice schedule, and it’s really been wearing me out.” 

“You think that’s tough? Try controlling the flow of breath from your core after one of Coach Sylvester’s three-legged wind sprint regimens,” counters Santana, the hottest chick in a school full of hot chicks. 

“If I sing too loudly it scares the baby elves that live in my hair,” adds Brittany, whose looks definitely came at the expense of something. 

“Guys, Sectionals are coming up sooner than we think. I know we’re going against other poor schools in this district but any team that shows up is going to have talent and if we get complacent, we’ll fail to place and our season will be over.” 

“But Mr. Schue, how are we supposed to prepare for Sectionals when we don’t even know what our setlist is going to be?” asks Mercedes, the one girl in the club whose talent doesn’t come with a proportionately noxious personality. 

“That’s why these next few weeks are crucial, Mercedes. If you throw your all into these assignments, you’ll come up with the performances that will guarantee a first place finish. So to get the creative juices flowing, I thought I’d simulate a little classic boys vs girls competition. Everyone split up.”

Puck doesn’t have the best grades, but even he isn’t that bad at math. “Mr. Schue, how is that fair? There’s seven of them and only two of us.” 

“You mean six and three; Kurt, not this time.” Kurt scowls, reluctantly leaving his actual friends to cross over to Puck and Finn’s side of the room. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that makes it worse,” Puck says, trying to avert his eyes to avoid being blinded by Kurt’s aggressively white pants. 

“Don’t be so ignorant, Noah,” Rachel calls from across the room despite not bothering to look at him. “An effective countertenor is essential to the success of any male vocal harmony group, and anyway Kurt is infinitely more talented than you.” 

“Wow. So much for Jewish solidarity.” Rachel’s smoking hot, but her internalized antisemitism is a total turnoff, and otherwise she’s just annoying. 

“Besides,” Schuester continues, “performing isn’t about numbers; it’s about chemistry, making the most out of your talent and pushing each other to be better. Whichever group does a better job at that is going to win, and I don’t care what the odds look like right now. Take this assignment lightly at your own risk.” 

Well, this is awkward. Nothing like having to team up with the kid Puck’s been throwing in dumpsters since the day he set foot at McKinley High School as the undisputed right hand man to the king of the school, even if he’s also the kicker Puck has technically spent the last couple of weeks sharing a locker room with and who he will never admit is definitely the Titans’ MVP. 

When the silence between the three of them stretches a little too long, Finn, always the good teammate, tries to clear the air.

“Alright fellas, so the girls may have Rachel, and Mercedes, and Santana.” 

“And Artie,” Kurt reminds him.

“Right, and Quinn and Brittany for good measure. But you heard what Mr. Schue said. If we believe in ourselves and put our all into this, we can totally come out on top.”

Puck rolls his eyes. “Bro, that’s about as convincing as the speech you gave in the huddle against Carmel right before you through the ball off the back of my head for a pick six.” 

Finn bristles. “Hey, they were in cover one; you were supposed to run the spot route to get between the weak-side linebacker and the post safety, not run right into the robber coverage.” 

Puck directs Finn’s attention to the look of terror on Kurt’s face. “Dude, no locker room talk, you’re scaring the theater kid.” 

“Bro, Kurt can send the ball through the uprights from 40+, he’s the only reason we’re winning. And he’s even better at singing. As long as we’ve got him we’ve got a chance.” 

“Why do you even care though? It’s just one of Schuester’s stupid games.”

“If football doesn’t work out for me, this Glee thing is my only shot at getting into a good college. I have to do whatever it takes to be the best singer I can be. I owe... everyone that much.” 

The wave of resentment hits Puck all at once, and he struggles to keep it at bay. “Yeah, I guess you must be feeling a lot of pressure, as a soon-to-be father and all.” 

He knows it’s not Finn’s fault, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t dreading the prospect of losing his best friend if the truth comes out, but this is how it’s always gone. Finn’s the one who matters, who gets all the glory, and who despite the pathetic team around him is actually a brilliant quarterback with enough talent to make Ohio State more than a pipe dream. He gets the cheer captain, he even gets the male lead in the Glee Club. Everything he touches turns to gold, even the stuff that should have destroyed his reputation. And now he gets to play-act as the father of Puck’s kid. 

_“You’re nothing but a Lima Loser. There is no universe where I allow you to claim anything of mine.”_ The words have been echoing around his head ever since he confronted Quinn. She made up her mind about him the moment they met, and now he’s going to be forced to do the one thing he always promised to never do. He’s going to have to abandon his kid. 

“Um, boys?” Kurt pipes up, breaking Puck out of his thoughts. “Far be it from me to infringe on what I’m sure is an elaborate bonding ritual between males of the heterosexual species, but I’m still here, and I’m wondering if either of you have any ideas on how to go about this competition, since I know before I ask you aren’t open to learning my extensive catalogue of unbeatable showtunes.” 

“The tunes aren’t the problem,” says Finn. “I mean, _Don’t Stop Believin’_ was my idea, and everyone loves it. We can just do something with a similar vibe. Bon Jovi, or something.” 

Puck shakes his head. “Too white, we’ve gotta mash it up with something or Mercedes will destroy us with R&B. Usher, maybe?”

Finn nods absentmindedly. “Yeah, that works. But let’s be real: we’re all exhausted. Coach Shannon has been running us ragged.”

“He’s right,” Kurt adds, “I found a drop of sweat on my face at practice the other day, it was horrifying.”

“We just don’t have the energy to put any power behind our performance. With the voices the girls have, we’ll get blown away.” 

Finn looks so worried that Puck can’t help but take pity on him. “Leave that to me. I’ve got a little trick up my sleeve that will have us tearing the roof off this place. The ladies won’t know what hit them.” 

The bell rings before they can ask what he means, which is a relief. He’s had the stuff for ages courtesy of Azimio and Karofsky, who avoided getting it confiscated by telling Coach Shannon it was Vitamin D supplements, but he never would have been so unethical as to actually use it. 

For football, that is. A meaningless Glee scrimmage to make his stupid best friend happy, though, is another matter entirely. He may kind of hate Finn at the moment, but they’re still bros. And Puck always follows the Code. 

As they head out of the choir room, he remembers one more thing. “Hey Kurt.” He grabs the boy by the shoulder and tries not to feel too hurt when he recoils, since that is the first time he’s ever done that without a dumpster close by. 

“Relax. I was just thinking you really know how to dress yourself, and we could probably use a kickass visual element to put us over the top. So I was thinking…” He runs his hand through his ‘fro. “What do you think of the Puckster rocking a mohawk?” 

Kurt stares at him with a look that Puck has never seen before, and can be described only as pure revulsion. 

“Absolutely not.”

***

“That was a disaster. What are we going to do?”

Rachel is frantic, and Quinn is already exhausted just looking at her. 

“So they masterfully blended the energy of the greatest male R&B singer of the 2000s with Finn’s rockstar stage presence. It’s fine. It doesn’t mean we’re going to lose. It’s fine.” Mercedes doesn’t sound convinced.

“I didn’t know Kurt could sing like a boy,” Brittany mumbles, an observation that’s among her more reasonable. 

“Where did all that energy come from?” asks an indignant Santana. “I know that level of theatricality is par for the course for that Hummel kid, but the football players have been zombies all week!” 

“I, for one, think this demands a radical reinvention of our setlist if we are to have any chance of winning.” Artie pushes her chair to the front of the room. “I once again nominate myself to perform the seminal 2005 classic _Ridin’_ by Chamillion-

“NO, ARTIE.” Quinn finds herself surprised to have joined the chorus of rejections with Rachel and Mercedes. Apparently she’s learning the ins and outs of this club faster than she realizes. 

Rachel takes a deep breath, seemingly to settle herself. “Alright, there’s no need to panic. Our song choice is impeccable. _Halo_ and _Walking on Sunshine_ are two of the defining songs of our generation. We just need to channel our collective talent and we’ll more than surpass their performance, as impressive as it was.”

Just yesterday the overly earnest pep talk would have been that classic Rachel Berry blend of insufferable and bizarrely cute, but today looking at her is just painful and hearing her voice is even worse. She knows that Rachel, somehow, means well. Or at least that the girl thinks she’s important enough to her chances at Nationals to throw aside all her other desires and principles and pretend to want to be her friend. If it's the latter, Quinn almost has to respect her. If it’s the former, and Quinn is slowly coming to the depressing conclusion that it is, she’ll have no choice but to pity her. Because Rachel thinking their worlds could ever exist beside each other is almost as sad as Quinn ever thinking God was looking out for her. 

“That still doesn’t answer how we’re going to match their energy.” Santana’s voice alerts Quinn to the fact that this pointless argument hasn’t ended yet. “Our talent advantage won’t do us any good; Schuester is a sap, and he’ll grade us on a curve, you know he will.” 

“God, does it really matter?” Quinn knows speaking is more trouble than it’s worth, but her headache is getting worse and she can’t stand another second of this. “Just let the boys win, it will be good for team morale, or whatever.” 

“You mean throw a competition?” Rachel looks genuinely hurt and Quinn laughs out loud in spite of herself. “I would expect that attitude from everyone else in this club, Quinn, but not from a champion like you.” 

The fact that Quinn feels kind of good about Rachel thinking of her as a champion when she feels like anything but makes her more nauseous than any bout of morning sickness has. 

“Yeah, so you wouldn’t know this, Rachel, but one thing winning does is give you perspective on which fights matter. And this isn’t one of those.” 

“I agree.” The girls all turn on a dime to see Kurt standing in the doorway, looking so perfectly ridiculous in his Bon Jovi leather jacket and Usher sunglasses that Quinn actually wishes he would change back into the exotic animal pelts and community theater costume department sell-offs he usually wears. 

“I may be the leading point scorer in the Southeastern Ohio Football Conference, whatever any of that means, but my loyalty is to you ladies.” 

“Kurt! I always knew we could count on you.” Rachel rushes forward and actually tries to hug him, but Kurt extends an arm and stops her in her tracks. “I was talking to Mercedes and Artie, Rachel. If helping out my friends also makes you happy, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.” 

Santana narrows her eyes. “What could you possibly have to offer us?” 

“Oh nothing much. Just the inside knowledge that you’re not operating on a level playing field. That performance was made possible by PEDS.” 

Brittany looks up. “Wait, you guys made a bomb?” 

“PEDS, not IEDS, Britt,” Santana supplies, “Performance enhancing drugs. What did Puck give them?”

Noah. Of course. Never has Quinn’s instincts about someone been so consistently proven right. Sure, he keeps offering to pay for her doctor’s bills, but only because he’s inexplicably convinced that she’ll somehow agree to get together with him and keep the baby if he plays his pickup lines just right. Besides, Finn’s right there and every bit as willing to help out, and even though Quinn feels like she’s betraying a golden retriever every time she takes advantage of him, there’s no other option. Eventually the baby will be out of her life, and everything will be back to normal. And for ‘normal,’ she’ll choose Finn every time. 

“Oh, just a small dose of pseudoephedrine. I didn’t take any, of course, it could have wreaked havoc on my skin care regimen. But if you want to make this competition about talent again, I’ve brought you enough to balance the scales.” 

“I appreciate you sticking your neck out for us Kurt,” Mercedes interjects, “but do we really need to do this? We know we’re good enough, we don’t need to cheat just to prove it here.” 

“It’s not cheating if the game has already been rigged.” Rachel steps forward again, and Quinn is taken aback by the fire in her eyes. “This isn’t about being good enough, this is about becoming the best. And we’re never going to be champions unless we’re willing to do whatever it takes.” 

Christ. This girl is going to destroy herself if she keeps internalizing everything Quinn says to her. Fortunately, that’s no concern of Quinn’s. 

“Well, all of you can do what you want, just keep the drugs away from your pregnant teammate please,” Quinn drawls. 

“Rachel, this isn’t you,” Mercedes implores. “Don’t do this.” 

Rachel’s eyes meet Quinn’s for a split second before she turns back to Mercedes. “Maybe it needs to be.” She crosses back to the front of the room. “Let’s put it to a vote.” 

Quinn rolls her eyes. She knows Santana and Brittany well enough to know they won’t pass up a chance to take drugs and humiliate boys, and from what she’s gathered, Artie isn’t at all that different. Doping is going to win in a landslide. 

God, Glee Club is stupid.

***

“I can’t believe I’ve dishonored myself.”

“Oh, get over yourself Rachel.” Between all of the Finn/Puck tension from earlier and whatever that _thing_ was between Rachel and Quinn, Kurt has just about had it with confused heterosexuals and their fits of unearned moodiness. “Everything worked out golden for you. Sure, the competition was a wash and we had to listen to a very sanctimonious PSA from Mr. Schue straight out of the Reagan administration. But Puckerman got his leading man privileges revoked for distributing illicit substances and Mr. Schue finally realized that awarding solos for good behavior is like making me the quarterback of the Titans because of my superior fashion sense, so you even have your precious spotlight back.” 

“If anyone gets a lead in our Sectionals setlist, it should be you. You’re the only one who performed well enough to win without any shortcuts.” 

Kurt sighs. This girl really will be the end of him. “Rachel, how am I supposed to take satisfaction in you actually recognizing my talent if you sound so sad about it?”

“I just don’t understand why I did it. I’ve always wanted to win, and I always will want to win, but to do something so reckless over something so meaningless… how could I have been so stupid?”

“Because Quinn Fabray made you feel insecure and you wanted to do something, anything, to prove her wrong about you. Am I close?”

Rachel looks up at him shyly, and her expression is so fragile it looks like it could shatter from a strong gust of wind. She nods. “Nothing I do ever works. I can’t get her to like me, I can’t get myself to not care about her, and now with the pregnancy, and her life coming apart at the seams… I can’t hate her anymore, but I can’t find anything else to replace that feeling with.” 

This is going to end badly. He doesn’t know exactly how - Rachel is so different from him and her life has moved at such a drastically different pace that he almost wonders if there will be any points of overlap at all - but he knows it’s coming. And even if he wants to, there’s nothing he can do about it. He can only hope she makes a friend she can count on in time for it to all come crashing down, because going through it alone isn’t something he’d wish on anyone, even someone as annoying as Rachel Berry. 

He can’t be that, but maybe he can at least help her on her way. “Listen, Rachel, only you can decide how you feel about Quinn and what you want to do about it. But if there’s any piece of advice you take from me, make it be this: don’t throw yourself into the fire for someone who has only ever caused you pain. At some point, you need to stand up for yourself.”

They sit in silence in the darkness of the empty auditorium for a long time, but when Rachel finally smiles - a real, non-insufferable smile - Kurt dares to hope that maybe the New Directions are going to be ok, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Kurt actually did take the PEDS in canon! That felt out-of-character for us (esp since he's shown to be sober in later episodes) so we didn't have him take them in our version.
> 
> Tension is really starting to build up in the Glee Club, huh? Anyone ready for a Throwdown?


	7. Throwdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Puck lost his lead in Don’t Stop Believin’ because he gave the Glee Club boys drugs to try and win a competition against the girls. The entire Glee Club knows that Quinn is pregnant and now Rachel doesn't know how she feels about making amends with her. She thinks she's still into Finn though. And Mr. Schue still doesn't know what they're doing for Sectionals.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sue's storylines still count as adult storylines.
> 
> Are we at Sectionals yet? No?
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Santana Lopez needs to get herself out of loser central and back onto the football field where she belongs soon or she’s going to snap.

“As we head into Sectionals, I wanna try out another of my favorite classics. I’m thinking we try _Keep Holding_ On by Avril Lavigne.” Mr. Schue announces, striding into the room with way too big of a smile considering the way his hair looks like small birds are laying sulfurous eggs in it.

“Can we maybe try something a little more black?” asks Mercedes. Santana is going to be the last one to criticize the only other woman of color in the room for speaking out about Schuester’s ridiculous affinity for white people rock that came out before any of them were born, but sometimes it really feels like being a sassy black woman is her only real personality trait. “We do an awful lot of showtunes.”

“Yeah, why can’t we do something actually good, like _Ride Wit Me?_ I already know all the words and humbly volunteer myself as lead vocalist,” adds Artie. She really is desperate for any kind of rap she can get isn’t she?

“Duly noted,” replies Mr. Schue looking a little out of his comfort zone. It’s clear he has no actual interest in any music made by people darker than a manila folder.

“Wait are you taking suggestions?” asks Puck, sitting forward with sudden interest from his place on the back row of the risers. “Because I have so many suggestions. Bruh. Your music taste is just… I mean it’s completely stuck in the 80s. And, like, not even the golden age of hip hop 80s, like just this weird angsty white boy dad rock 80s. I’m thinking we bring in some Drake, Nissim, you know the good sh-”

“Thank you for your input, Puck,” Mr. Schue says between gritted teeth.

“Wait there’s a singing car? Is it touring? Could we do a field trip to go see it?” asks Brittany. Damn, she’s so pretty.

“Nissim. Not Nissan. He’s a person,” Santana says gently, taking her hand and giving it a little squeeze.

She has a plan. After rehearsal, she drags Quinn away from Finn and Rachel and marches straight to Coach Sylvester’s office. Q looks a little ruffled and huffs angrily at her, but whatever weird cat fight she and Berry are having now can wait.

“The minority students don't feel like they're being heard.”

“Chink in the armor, huh?” Coach Sylvester responds with a smile, putting down the blade she had been carefully sharpening. Santana knows she and Britt haven’t exactly been her favorites ever since the dancing incident, but Coach sees the gleam in her eyes and her smile grows just a bit more sinister. “I’m going to create an environment so toxic no one will want to be a part of that club. Like the time I sold my house to a nice, young couple and I salted the earth in the backyard so that nothing living could grow there for a hundred years. You know why I did that? Because they tried to get me to pay their closing costs. So here’s what we’re gonna do.”

***

Rachel just wants to get to class. Why is some kid with a microphone blocking her way? She’s been preparing herself for overexcited reporters for years, but she shouldn’t have to deal with them before she’s even made her first big break.

“The independent polling company in my khakis has determined you're the hottest girl in this school.”

 _Ew,_ she thinks “Ew,” she says. Horny reporters were, of course, also a part of her training, but this is just vulgar.

“Have you been reading my blog?” he asks eagerly, looking at her with what she assumes are meant to be puppy dog eyes. It’s really not a cute look.

“Of course not. You're a gossipmonger and your blog is nothing but trash and lies, many of them about me.”

“You'll be happy to know that the story I'm working on right now has nothing to do with you. It's about Quinn Fabray.” That gets her to stop trying to side-step him and actually pay attention. “Word on the street is that she's in trouble.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Yes.”

“Because the same birdie told me you're heartbroken Finn Hudson didn't choose you to carry his litter.”

Rachel’s not even going to try to process that. She takes a deep breath instead. She knows she and Quinn aren’t friends, but Quinn is a part of her team, and no one messes with her team, not while she has any say in it. “What is it gonna take for you to not run the story?”

***

Santana knows what she had to do, and how she has to do it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be a challenge.

“I think we should start practicing in secret behind Mr. Schue’s back.”

Santana had pulled aside Wheels, Gay Kid, Mercedes, and Puck after practice while Quinn and Brittany distracted Rachel and Finn.

“Um, why would we do that?” asks Mercedes, putting a hand on her hip.

She really is a walking caricature sometimes. “You said it yourself. Mr. Schue doesn’t care about the minority students. We all know he’s never going to give us any actually good music, and I can’t imagine we’ll have any shot at winning Sectionals with whatever crusty BS he picks.”

“Okay, but why did you only pull us aside?” asks Artie narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Look, I love Quinn and Britt more than anything, and Rachel and Finn are… yeah, but those four just don’t understand what we as minority students are upset about.”

“Wait, hold up,” says Puck, putting both of his hands up in a time-out sign, “Is this because I’m Jewish? Because Berry doesn’t have to do any stupid extra practices.”

“No, you idiot, it’s because you’re black,” snaps Santana.

“But even if we go along with this plan, which I’m not saying we will,” interrupts Kurt, “are you really qualified to coach a choir rehearsal? You don’t even care about this club. Everyone knows you’re just here because Quinn and Brittany are.”

“Obviously I’m not going to be the one coaching your precious little club. But maybe with Coach Sylvester’s proven leadership abilities we can actually have a shot at placing at Sectionals.”

“Fine. I’m in,” Kurt agrees reluctantly.

Santana looks around at the rest of the group. They all slowly nod their heads, and Santana has to bite her cheek to keep her smile in check. This is going to be easier than she thought.

“Alrighty, first rehearsal starts now. Let’s get to the auditorium,” she says, leading the way out the door and around the corner.

Inside, Coach Sylvester stands on the stage, lit by a single spotlight, arms outstretched. “Did you catch Sue's Corner last night? Sometimes people ask me, ‘Sue, how come you're so sensitive to minorities?’ I'll tell you why. Because I know firsthand how hard it is to struggle as a minority in America today. I'm 1/16th Comanche Indian. In fact, I like minorities so much I'm thinking of moving to California to become one. So I selected a song that I think will speak to the frustration you've felt under the failed leadership of Will Schuester. Hit it!”

She steps to the side, and the lights go up on a full symphony orchestra playing opening notes of _Hate on Me._

“Hell to the yeah!” shouts Mercedes running up on stage and belting out the opening verse.

Artie and Kurt are right in there for the chorus. At some point, Artie ends up with Kurt’s zebra print beret on her head. Without it he almost looks like a normal human being in his neutral cashmere sweater and skinny jeans. The sparkly silver high tops are really the only give away.

Puck and Santana jump in for back up, and the five of them really get into the groove of it, dancing around the stage and really just letting lose in a way that Santana hasn’t let herself since joining this stupid club.

***

Rachel can’t believe what she’s just done. She’s supposed to be standing up for herself, and instead she’s already completely debased herself for the sake of her career. _Was it really just for your career though?_ Of course it was for her career. How is the Glee Club supposed to perform well at Sectionals when one of their own is struggling. Not to say she and Quinn aren’t friends, maybe. Sort of. Not really. But it’s not like she would ever be able to give up so much for the head cheerleader if their futures weren’t so intertwined. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“Hey, you good?” Finn asks, grabbing her shoulders to keep her from walking straight into his chest. He really is a giant, isn’t he?

“Let's just say I feel sorry for my dads 'cause they're probably gonna have to dip into my college fund to pay for intensive therapy.”

“That seems like a lot. Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s about your girlfriend, actually. Someone figured out about her situation, and he threatened to publish an article about it. Which. Obviously, I wasn’t going to let him. But he made… demands.”

“Did he try to put his hands on you? Because if he did, I’ll kill him. Honest,” says Finn, and his grip on her shoulders tightens in a way that Rachel definitely doesn’t notice because she is absolutely not interested in Finn at all anymore.

“No! No, nothing like that. I mean, it was absolutely revolting, but he didn’t actually touch me.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxes before his nose scrunches up, and he looks at her with that token confused face of his. “Then what did you have to do?”

“I um…”

“I need a new pair,” demands a certain reporter, brandishing a pair of underwear in Rachel’s face. 

She bats it away in disgust and gives him the most contemptuous face she can muster before snapping, “We had a deal. _One_ pair.”

“Yeah, one pair of authentic Rachel Berry panties. These still have the tag on them.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll get them first thing tomorrow, just, put those away,” hisses Rachel, pushing his shoulder roughly backwards.

“Oh, like it dirty, do you? I feel an urge to kiss you right now.”

“Just try it,” growls Finn stepping between them, and Rachel had honestly forgotten he was there, but her heart absolutely does not swell at the thought of him standing up for her like that. It doesn’t. And even if it does, it doesn’t matter because that’s not what’s best for the team.

“Thank you,” she tries, though her voice comes out kind of squeaky, and she can feel her face burning bright red.

“Hey, what you’re doing is really awesome. I promise, I’m gonna figure out a way to make it up to you somehow.” Finn looks at her with his big brown eyes and Rachel looks away before she does something stupid.

“You really don’t have to. This is what’s best for the team.”

“You know, you’re just are full of surprises. I really like you,” he says with that big innocent smile on his face.

_Not the way I like you._

***

Quinn is really going to lose it. She is going to go to Hell for betraying her overgrown puppy of a boyfriend and sleeping with his best friend and she really is going to deserve it. How could she have been so stupid? She worked so hard her entire life. Become head cheerleader. Date the quarterback. Rule the school. Don’t get pregnant. How could she have messed up so badly? And now, she’s gone and ruined everything, and this is going to follow her for the rest of her life, and she’ll always be the slut who cheated on her perfect boyfriend with some gross loser and got knocked up in high school.

 _Calm down and snap out of it._ Okay, so maybe this has been a particularly stressful week. She’s fine. Really, she is. Her mom clearly knows she’s pregnant, but she won’t do anything to help and Quinn is just absolutely alone and it’s really nobody’s fault but her own. _Stop it. Stop it right now._

She takes a deep breath, counts backwards from ten, and focuses on the Spanish quiz in front of her.

She’s only made it about halfway through the second question when a folded scrap of paper lands on her desk. She turns around and sees Finn smiling up at her. “What’s this?” she asks quietly, keeping an eye on Mr. Schue, who seems to be absorbed in a self-help book for young divorcees.

“Check it out. I came up with a name that I think would be good for the kid.”

Quinn carefully unfolded the little piece of paper. The page had been colored a bright orange, with fun, zig-zagging lines all radiating out from a single word in big white block letters in the center. “Drizzle?” Quinn asks, turning back to face Finn, “What’s that?”

“I figured it would be a good name for our kid. It’s gender-neutral, and it’s like, original and poetic and stuff. 'Cause, like, I just really like when it's drizzling outside, but it's not really raining so it smells like rain, but you don't need an umbrella to go outside. I want our kid to have a cool poetic name like that, you know.”

“Are you a moron? We're not naming our baby Drizzle. We're not naming our baby anything. Finish your test, Finn,” she hisses, turning back around in her seat and thinking more than ever that she really is going to lose it. Her test is a lost cause at this point, so she just scribbles down her best guesses and goes to sit in a bathroom stall and breathe for the rest of the period.

Unfortunately, Finn has other ideas. “Wait up. Please tell me what’s wrong,” he says, jogging out of the classroom behind her. She wonders absently if Mr. Schue is being lenient and taking pity on them, or if he really is just stupid enough to not notice both halves of a couple slipping out to ‘use the bathroom’ in the middle of a test.

“You really don’t know?” Quinn doesn’t even really understand why she’s so mad at Finn, but she is, and he just won’t leave her alone. He stares at her with that stupid look on his face and she just wants to punch it. “You really don’t understand why I might be upset at you for suggesting baby names to me when you know I don't want to keep it. I can't keep it,” she finally spits out.

“You know, I get that this is your life and you need to be the one to make this decision, but it hurts that you’re not even trying to include the father of your kid,” he says and she knows. She knows on some level buried deep in her subconscious that he didn’t mean it like that. She really does. But that was just so decidedly the worst thing he could have possibly said to her in that moment and she doesn’t trust herself to open her mouth without screaming in the middle of the deserted hallway, and so she says nothing and lets him continue. “I’m trying to show you that I can support this kid, that I want this with you, and you don’t even seem to care about my feelings at all. And it just really sucks.”

This is too much for Quinn to handle. How does she explain that she really just needs Finn to be unconditionally supportive right now? How does she explain that she’s betrayed him and lied to him and she never plans to stop because she needs him? How can she explain that she can’t watch Finn raise this baby? She couldn’t, even if it was his. But it’s not. And she can’t be here with him right now. She really really can’t. So she doesn’t even bother trying. She just books it to the girls’ bathroom.

***

Brittany loves cheese. It’s too bad Lord Tubbington banned it in solid form after the Destiny’s Child incident. He could be really mean sometimes, but she couldn’t really blame him; he was still mad at her from the time she tried to get his neck x-rayed.

“Great news, guys. I think that we have our number for Sectionals,” says Mr. Schuester, as he enters the room. Why must he always enter after everyone else, and announce the week’s lesson as he does? It’s almost like he thinks he’s hosting some kind of afternoon special or something. Brittany loves afternoon specials, but Mr. Schuester just could not rock a sweater vest like that. It’s disappointing, really.

Finn and Rachel get called up to the piano to sing the lead, which is kind of surprising, really. Brittany was thinking that for every five leads that they got, someone else would get one, but now the math just doesn’t add up. Maybe she forgot to carry a one?

Speaking of math, Brittany does a quick count of the room. “Wait, where is everyone?”

Mr. Schuester finally looks up at the room. Brittany is the only one sitting on the risers. “Um. That’s a good point, Brittany. Where is everyone?” He looks over at Finn and Rachel but they both just shrug.

“I thought maybe Quinn told everyone to be mad at me because I’m dumb and a bad boyfriend and they all left to go do something really fun without me, like maybe laser tag.”

“I just figured they all finally realized that I’m by far the most talented person in here, and no amount of rehearsal will ever allow them to match me, so they all just gave up.”

Or, at least, that’s what Brittany hears. She isn’t really paying much attention. “You’re both wrong. Coach Sylvester decided to set up secret extra rehearsals for all the minority students, and they’re meeting in the choir room right now because I told them rehearsal was canceled today.”

“Okay, first, why did you ask where everyone was if you already knew? Second, why is everyone doing secret extra rehearsals with Sue? And third, why did you tell everyone rehearsal was canceled?” asks Mr. Schuester, walking over to her. He kind of looks scary when he tries to act like a real teacher. Definitely not a good look on him.

“I just figured if I didn’t point something out, the three of you would never notice anything was wrong. Coach thinks you ignore the needs of minority students and bigotry is no laughing matter, and I knew Quinn didn’t want to come to rehearsal today because she was feeling sick so I just figured we could cancel it instead,” Brittany says, counting off on her fingers as she goes. “So that’s it. I hope that was helpful. Anyway, I’m going to go find Santana. This is no fun without her here.”

***

Rachel spots Quinn on her way to English and beelines over to her.

“You weren’t at rehearsal today. Are you feeling alright?”

“Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t at rehearsal but the last thing I need right now is for you to be berating me about the importance of a perfectly practiced three-part harmony. In case you haven’t noticed, I have actual problems that I’m dealing with right now.”

“I know that. I just wanted to see if you were feeling okay,” says Rachel. She’s a little taken aback by Quinn’s coldness.

“I’m obviously not okay so can you please just stop pretending you care? I’m grateful that you agreed to stop going after Finn, if that’s what you want to hear, but once a cheater always a cheater so just leave me alone and let me get to class,” snaps Quinn, trying to push around Rachel.

“I’ll admit that I had romantic ulterior motives for getting Finn to join the Glee Club and sing with me in the past, but I promise I’m not a cheater. And the fact that you, of all people are accusing me of that is, frankly, laughable,” Rachel snaps back. Kurt told her to stand up for herself. This is her standing up for herself. If Quinn is going to be unnecessarily rude, two can play at that game.

“Excuse me?” Quinn’s face pales at that, and that’s really the last shred of proof Rachel needs to know she’s right.

“You're a mole for Coach Sylvester and you can deny it all you want, but I know it's true.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Coach Sylvester is not on your side, Quinn. She's not on anyone's side but her own. Can you imagine what she's gonna do when she finds out about you? I don’t know why you’re so bent on helping her destroy the Glee Club. Right now, we’re all you have.” She turns and walks away, and just hopes maybe some of what she said got through.

***

Quinn will be the first to admit that Coach Sylvester is an unpredictable force of nature, but nothing could have prepared her for the pair of women’s underwear dangling from the end of a pencil that Coach holds in her outstretched arm.

“Q! Have a seat why don’t you? Wouldn’t want my head cheerleader tiring herself out, now would we?”

Hesitantly stepping into the office and doing as she’s told, Quinn begins, “What are-”

“Oh, I’m sure you know full well what it is that I’m holding. Or were you not aware of the disgusting display of sexual depravity that roams these halls like it’s some kind of summer music festival for indie rock bands singing about world peace.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

“After all this time we’ve worked together, I really thought you’d know better than to try to play dumb with me.”

“Coach, I-”

“You see, earlier this week, I was walking down the hall, minding my business like I always do, when the glimmer of something caught my eye. Now, I’m not here to judge the personal lives of you and your fellow students, but it strikes me as a little odd that a certain depraved online blogger should have a pair of sparkly pink lady undies in his locker. So, of course, I grab the offending garment on the end of a pencil with one hand and the little deviant’s ear with the other and we all march on down to my office where we have the most interesting conversation about a certain story that it seems he was bribed not to run.”

“But Coach I didn’t-”

“I know about your little accident. And I’m here to tell you that I will not tolerate this kind of behavior, as you well know. You’re off the team. I expect your uniform, dry cleaned and pressed on my desk by the end of the week.”

This isn’t happening. It isn’t. Everything Quinn has ever worked for cannot all be coming apart like this. She has to have just this one good thing. What’s even the point of dating the most popular guy in school if she’s just going to end up some pregnant nobody? That’s not the life she’s built for herself. It isn’t.

“Don’t just sit there looking like I slapped you. I know for a fact that you heard every word I said judging by your face which is now whiter than the 2004 Olympic synchronized swimming team. It’s not like you’ve even been of any use ever since I assigned you to Will’s pathetic band of show-tune addled brats. I never thought I’d live to see the downfall of Quinn Fabray, but in hindsight, I can’t say I’m surprised. You can’t even keep your own boyfriend in check. Yesterday, he barges into my rehearsal and starts ranting about having each others’ backs or whatever ridiculousness. And then here comes Will and he has the audacity to say that they’re all minorities because they’re all in a part of his disgusting little ensemble. Pathetic. Just like you. Now, get out of my office. Go!”

She points her pencil at the door and Quinn is so shell-shocked she can’t even muster an argument. She just gets up and stiffly makes her way to rehearsal.

When she walks in there, everyone is already gathered by the piano. They all look up at her, faces ranging from pity to outright worry. It can’t be. She wouldn’t. Coach can be tough, but she wouldn’t do this. Sure enough though, several people have their phones out, and they’re all on the same website.

“He ran the story.” It’s not a question. There’s nothing else that it could be.

“I’m so sorry,” says Rachel, and Quinn can’t handle the pity in her eyes. She just can’t. She considers just turning around and walking out, but she can’t bear to face whoever she might encounter out in the hallway. Finn steps forward and gently takes her hand, leading her up to the piano with the rest of the group.

“We have a surprise for you,” he says softly, and Quinn just lets herself melt into the familiar touch.

Rachel steps up to her other side, and the two of them start a gentle duet.

_“You're not alone  
Together we stand  
I'll be by your side  
You know I'll take your hand  
When it gets cold  
And it feels like the end  
There's no place to go  
You know I won't give in  
No, I won't give in”_

She takes a deep breath as everyone joins in for the chorus, and just lets the tears flow down her face, not even caring anymore who sees.

_“Keep holding on  
'Cause you know we'll make it through  
We'll make it through”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The annoying reporter seen here is Jacob Ben Israel (JBI) in canon. But since he’s a super, super antisemetic caricature, we’ve more or less erased everything about his character. Here he’s just an annoying reporter.
> 
> In canon, Quinn gets kicked off the Cheerios in the next episode (Mash-Up). We’re trying to speed things up.


	8. Mash-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Santana tried to take down the Glee Club by claiming that Mr. Schue doesn’t care about minorities. It didn’t work because they’re all minorities. Rachel tried to prevent an article about Quinn’s pregnancy from being released but it got released anyway and now everyone in the school knows. Her parents still don’t though.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode has, what we believe, the second worst song in all of Glee’s discography; Thong Song, sung by the one and only Will Schuester. We got rid of it but we recommend looking up the performance of it on the show.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

“What should we do?”

Santana doesn’t look up from her paper. “Nothing. We stay on the team.”

It’s the same answer she gives Brittany every time she asks about Quinn. The first few nights were awful. Quinn would come over and while Santana thought she and Brittany were doing a good job trying to cheer her up, it was impossible to get her to smile. Quinn even stopped praying the rosary, which Santana already knew and Brittany was good at faking, with them after the First Mystery to cry in the bathroom.

Now they’re in Math class, and Quinn’s barely talked to them all day. It’s hard to see her without Finn now.

Brittany taps her pencil against the table. “But Quinn’s our friend. We should do something.”

“What do you want us to do? Quit?” Santana asks, starting to feel annoyed, “Coach Sylvester would kill us. Like, actually kill us. This morning I saw her slam a kid against a wall, take his coffee, and dump it on his shoes after she took a sip of it.”

She doesn’t want to tell Brittany the real reason she can’t quit; she has nothing else. Cheering is the only thing she’s good at besides lying and sex. She’s not as clever as Quinn, not as pretty as Brittany. Whatever she has with the Glee Club stops at her mission and nothing more. She’d be more than happy to get a trophy with her name on it in Coach Sylvester’s office. 

“I don’t want to quit. I like being on the Cheerios with you. I think it’s fun, especially when Coach Sylvester hands me a cat treat every time I get the routine right.”

“Yeah, does Lord Tubbington like them?”

“Oh he doesn’t get them,” Brittany says, popping something into her mouth. “Speaking of Coach Sylvester, she told me she’s disappointed with us.”

Santana groans. “I know. She tells us that everyday. We need to do something. Fast.” 

They don’t have the safety net Quinn had, and Brittany’s already on thin ice because of the dancing thing. She doesn’t know what she would do if Brittany got kicked off. Her last idea was a bust. It only made everyone like each other more.

She’s thought about shoving Puck and Rachel together. Although she couldn’t really think of anything they have in common besides being Jewish. Santana knows more about Puck than she’d like to admit, they did date for a while after all, and she knows he likes a challenge, but Rachel’s more than a challenge. She’s a goddamn Herculean task. So Santana didn’t bother to think more about it. Besides, if she went through with it then Finn would get involved, and if Finn did, so would Quinn.

“Can we do something with the guys?” Brittany asks.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Finn fell asleep in English yesterday,” she says, “I didn’t have time to draw on his face but I remembered that Coach Shannon is working them hard.”

Santana nods. “I know. That’s why Puck gave him the PEDS for the competition a week ago.”

“Yeah, the bombs.” Brittany starts tapping the table faster. 

Santana watches the eraser end chip away for a moment before getting an idea. They might not be able to take down the Glee Club from the inside, but maybe with some outside help, she can get her and Brittany out of the bottom of the pyramid and right back on top where they belong.

And maybe Quinn too, if they play their cards right.

***

Puck’s really starting to rethink this Glee thing.

He joined to keep an eye on Quinn, and yeah, maybe he’s not doing the best job of it, but at least she’s not dead, right? It didn’t take long for him to actually start enjoying it. Not because of the whole singing and dancing thing, it’s more like he likes spending time with Finn off the field. Plus the guy’s had Quinn stuck to his side ever since that article got released, so it’s a two-for-one deal.

Outside of Finn, Puck will admit some of the club members aren’t as lame as he thought they were. It’s nice being able to reconnect with Santana, and Mercedes has helped him get back in touch with their culture. He can’t get through one practice without Azimio accusing him of ‘playing white’ and Mercedes told him that she goes through the same stuff every day.

So when Mercedes walks into the choir room for rehearsal drenched and stained blue, Puck can’t help but frown.

“Hey,” Artie says, drawing the word out almost mockingly. She gestures to her matted hair and the pool of melted slushie in her lap. “We match!”

“What flavor did you get this time?” Mercedes asks. She wrings out her hair.

“Blue raspberry,” Artie says, wheeling back a little to avoid the splash zone. “But if those neanderthals had any taste, they would realize that cherry is the superior flavor.”

Mercedes looks like she’s about to argue with her before Kurt walks in. He’s spotless but Puck still can’t look at him for more than a few seconds. And it’s not just because of the holographic… jacket? Whatever he’s wearing. 

Artie moves to the side to let Kurt up the risers. “Yo, Kurt. How’d you sneak past the firing squad?”

“I didn’t,” he says, taking care to wipe down a chair before sitting on it. Puck may not be the smartest guy in school but he can read body language like a book, and despite the cool exterior, Kurt’s wound up like a spring. “Those barbarians let me through without a second thought. Although I shouldn’t say that, seeing as they barely have the capacity to make one thought. Whoever was behind me wasn’t so lucky.“

“Thanks for the help Kurt!” Rachel yells, storming into the choir room with a purple-stained skirt and knee-highs. Which would look super hot on a girl that isn’t Rachel freaking Berry. “I called your name multiple times and not once did you look back at me! I thought we were friends.”

“Your repeated insistence on this is astounding. If only you would put the same amount of work in improving your breath control.”

Rachel freezes. “Excuse me? You, of all people, are accusing me of imprope-” 

“Can we not do this today?” Santana calls out from the back row. “Like, really. Can we just, not?”

“Yeah I’m more interested in how Kurt got through,” Mercedes says. She sheds her jacket and drops it by her seat.

“I got through the same reason Puckerman did. I’m on the football team, which grants me riveting benefits that include a lifetime of trauma from watching Azimio and Karofsky attempt to court females by seeing who can hit each other the hardest. And an immunity from artificial dyes,” Kurt explains.

“Wait Kurt plays football?” Brittany says, breaking out of a daze. She probably just realized that people other than Santana are in the room. “I just thought the uniform was some sort of fashion thing.”

Kurt looks offended.

Rachel clears her throat, obviously trying to get the attention of everyone in the room. Instead of her, though, everyone turns to look who just entered the room.

Puck’s only seen Quinn with her hair down twice; once when they had sex and the other when they went bowling a few weeks ago. She looks like an angel with it down. Her eyes are duller than they normally are but they’re still round and gentle. Noticing everyone’s eyes on her, Quinn smiles the same smile she always gives them. She walks past Rachel, who looks conflicted, without giving her a second look.

But Puck’s more interested in the person who walked in with her. Finn’s covered in slushie, trailing Quinn with sloppy footsteps. He stops when she sits by Santana and Brittany and opts to sit next to Puck when he sees there are no other open seats.

“Dude, what happened?” Puck asks him.

“Karofsky. He got a hit on me while Quinn and I were walking here and told us that being in Glee Club made us fair game.” Finn’s face scrunches up in anger. “I told him I’d kill him if he ever touched Quinn.”

“Oh God, I’m in trouble,” Kurt says, looking at Finn with widened eyes.

“Dude we’re fine.” Puck says. He turns back to Finn and whispers, “Dude we’re not fine.”

Rachel claps her hands together. “Alright! As much as I find this discussion interesting, we should start rehearsal. Mr. Schue is late so I say we begin without him. The first order of business is deciding which song would work best as my solo. If you look at the paper I taped under your chairs, you can see that I created a spreadsheet with every single possible song that’s flattering for a mezzo-soprano who prefers the height of her vocal range and matches the style of _Don’t Stop Believin’._ ”

“There are over 250 songs on this page,” Artie says, “And one of them is _Don’t Stop Believin’._ ”

“Obligatory comment about how someone else should have the solo spot,” Kurt says.

Mercedes agrees. “Look Rachel, everyone in this room has proved that they can sing a solo. You don’t even know if there is a solo spot because Mr. Schue hasn’t decided what the setlist is yet.”

“Not everyone in this room has shown they can handle the pressure of performing an entire song on their own. Artie and I have already sung solos during performances,” Rachel points out, “And while I believe that you, Kurt, and Finn are more than capable of doing so as well, everyone else has failed to stand out enough to even warrant the idea that anyone can take the spot.”

“So by everyone else, you mean us,” Santana says, gesturing to herself and Brittany and Quinn, “and Puck.”

“Yeah, what the hell? I sang the lead in _Don’t Stop Believin’_ with Finn. I’ve proven myself, or whatever you said.” Honestly Puck doesn’t care about the stupid solo spot. It’s just fun to make Rachel mad. But now the more Puck thinks about it, the more he realizes that this might be his chance to impress Quinn. He hops up and grabs his guitar from the band equipment. “Here, I’ll do it again.”

He turns to the piano and calls for Brad to play the song widely regarded as the Jewish anthem for the modern world.

The opening notes of _Sweet Caroline_ start playing, and Puck stares at Brad with a fixed smile. Not the song he was referring to but he can work with this. Taking a moment to adjust his grip, Puck starts strumming;

_“Where it began, I can't begin to know when  
But then I know it's growing strong  
Was in the spring And spring became summer  
Who'd believe you'd come along”_

Of course he knows all the lyrics.

_“Hands, touching hands, reaching out  
Touching me, touching you”_

_“Oh, sweet Caroline,”_ Puck sings.

 _“Oh, oh, oh!”_ the rest of the club sings back. Well, everyone except Rachel, who’s been watching the entire performance with a horrified look on her face, and Quinn, who refuses to even look at him. Puck squares his shoulders, swipes a thumb across his bottom lip, and steps right in front of Quinn.

_“Good times never seem so good  
I've been inclined to believe it never would”_

“Okay fine, we get it! You can sing a solo,” Rachel says, standing up, “Now please stop.”

“No, don’t! Puck that was great!” Mr. Schuester says. Apparently he’s been in the doorway for a while now. “I was going to start rehearsal today seeing if anyone can _Bust a Move,_ ” he says, laughing at his own joke, “but that was incredible!”

“Thanks Mr. Schue.” The praise means nothing. Quinn still won’t look at him.

Schuester shuffles the papers in his hands. “Maybe I can still find a way to... hey! We can do a mash-up.”

“ _Of Sweet Caroline_ and _Bust a Move?_ ” Rachel asks, “Mr. Schue you know I value your opinions and always take them into consideration but that idea is just absurd.”

“All we’ve been doing are mash-ups lately Mr. Schue,” Mercedes reminds him.

“And not everything sounds good together,” Rachel says, “Take Kurt and I, for example. If you put me next to him in formation-”

“We are not doing this today,” Santana repeats, a warning in her voice.

Schuester silences her with a wave of his hand. Running up to the white board, he grabs a marker and writes a word on the board; ‘DECISIONS’. “You’re right guys. That’s why by the end of the week, I want you to find two songs to-”

“Speaking of decisions Mr. Schue,” Artie interrupts, “Have you decided on the setlist for Sectionals yet?”

Schuester chuckles for an uncomfortable amount of time. “No.”

Everyone shares a knowing look. Artie speaks up again. “You haven’t decided on anything? We’ve done _Last Name, Somebody to Love,_ and _Keep Holding On._ Even _It’s My Confessions_ and _Halo On Sunshine_ were good.”

“Yes they were,” Schuester says, “but I want us to explore as many options as we can before Sectionals comes along.”

“You didn’t make a setlist out of those songs, which would have been very smart of you, because they aren’t songs by Journey, didn’t you?” Quinn asks politely. 

Quinn doesn’t get an immediate answer. Instead Schuester stands there like an idiot. From where he’s sitting, Puck can see Rachel holding back a laugh. Quinn’s eyes dart to her before quickly turning her head towards Finn. 

She finally locks eyes with Puck, and all he can see is disgust.

***

“Alright, let’s try, uh, reverse tear on two,” Finn says bringing the huddle closer together.

Everyone’s exhausted. Coach Shannon’s ‘warm ups’ are starting to feel like she’s trying to kill them. A few of the guys have collapsed during practice and Coach Shannon’s ordered the rest of them to use their unconscious bodies as pull weights. Finn’s so tired he doesn’t care that nobody’s listening to them.

One of the guys breaks from the huddle to grab a drink from his water bottle. Slapping Finn on the back, he asks them, “So is Hummel not even gonna try today?”

Finn looks over Karofsky’s shoulder to see that Kurt’s just sitting on the bench on the side of the field. He’s watching the huddle with his arms and legs crossed.

“I’ll get him,” Finn says as he takes off his helmet. “Hey Kurt!”

When he doesn’t respond, Finn hands his helmet to one of the guys and jogs over to the bench. Kurt barely registers him.

Finn shoots him an easy grin. “Hey, the guys want you on the field.”

“It’s not my time yet,” Kurt replies simply.

Usually Kurt warms up with them anyway. Or, it’s more like he tries. He’s been getting better and lasting longer with each practice but lately he opts to just sit out. Finn thinks it’s a shame. The rest of the guys ignored him at first but even Finn can see they’re warming up to him.

“Yeah but you should at least warm up with us,” Finn says, “I know practice has been killer lately but it’s like you’re not having fun anymore.”

Kurt smiles. There’s something off about it though. Finn sees Kurt smile all the time during rehearsals but never like this. Never this coldly. “Fun? You think this is fun for me?”

“It looked like you were enjoying it the first couple of practices,” Finn admits.

“It was the rush of euphoria that came with the realization that my body hadn’t touched a dumpster in a few days. I’m not here for fun, Finn. If anything my quality of life decreases every second I touch astroturf. I know you’re at least smart enough to know that.”

Normally Finn would be offended by that but he’s heard so many variations of that sentence lately that it doesn’t sting as much. Still, it’s from Kurt, his teammate both on the field and in the choir room. So it hurts more than if Karofsky or Azimio had said it. “I guess I know it but I don’t understand it. It doesn’t seem like you to stay in something that makes you so miserable.”

Kurt bristles. “Do you think it’s a coincidence most of the gorillas on that field haven’t laid a hand on me since I joined? And don’t presume to know me Finn. The abysmal number of things you know about my life rivals only the number of pants Rachel Berry keeps in her sanctuary of a closet.”

Finn frowns. He takes a seat next to Kurt, not feeling surprised at all when he distances himself almost immediately.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Finn asks him. “You can trust me dude. Is it your dad?”

Finn thought the mention of Kurt’s dad would have eased the tension a little. Instead it just looks like Kurt tenses up even more. He’s met Kurt’s dad, and he’s a scary dude. Finn knows he’s stronger than most guys but Kurt’s dad could take him down in a heartbeat with just one look.

Eventually something gives way and Kurt relaxes. Despite not doing anything all practice, he looks just as tired as Finn feels. “No, it’s my mom.”

“Oh,” is all Finn can say.

Kurt looks toward the field. “She’d be disappointed if she knew I joined the football team only to quit a few games before the season ended.”

“I mean, you’re the reason our season hasn’t ended by now,” Finn says, “I haven’t met your mom yet but I think you’re like, super cool. And it would be rad if you stayed.”

He must have said something right because Kurt softens. “Thanks Finn.”

“Hey Hudson! Are you gonna get back on the field or what?” Azimio barks.

Finn looks at Kurt, who just shrugs. “Go ahead. I’ll join you soon. I need a few more minutes for the moisturizer to set in.”

Trying, and failing, to get Kurt to give him a high-five, Finn hops up and makes his way back onto the field. None of the guys have really moved, they all just huddled around Azimio instead.

“No luck?” one of the guys asks. Finn recalls that he’s one of the guys who used to shove Kurt into the lockers. Used to.

“He’ll join us soon.”

Karofsky groans. Whipping off his helmet, he sneers at Finn. “Man, how are you our captain when you can’t even get Hummel to listen to you? You’ve gotten soft Hudson.”

“He lost man points when he joined Homo Explosion,” Azimio says, pausing to let the other guys laugh. “Dunno why you’re laughing Puckerman. You and Hudson probably make out when Hudson’s bitch isn’t around.”

Finn’s so tired he didn’t even notice Puck was at practice. Sure enough, Puck’s stationed at his left. Probably has been for a while. “You live with your mom Karofsky? I’m asking for a friend.”

“Some of the cheerleaders told us to meet them in the locker room after practice again. I know you like dudes now Hudson but I’m sure you’ll still get something out of it,” Azimio says, “Maybe they have an extra skirt for you.”

Karofsky agrees. “Can’t believe you were man enough to knock up Quinn Fabray. You sure a real man didn’t sneak in and do it for you?”

Suddenly Finn doesn’t feel all that tired anymore. “That’s it.”

He throws the first punch but Karofsky must have seen it coming because he ducks. Grabbing Finn’s arm, Karofsky tackles Finn to the ground. They’re both aware that neither of them have their helmets on and try to use that to their advantage. 

Finn grabs a clump full of Karofsky’s hair and pulls him down. Wrapping a leg around Karofsky’s hips, Finn turns them over. He straddles Karofsky, trying to weave around his hands. Finn can hear the shouts from the other guys faintly but it’s mostly static to him. Karofsky goes limp for a second and Finn eases up, realizing too late that he fell for the bait as Karofsky knees him in the stomach.

Hands grab Finn’s shoulders and force him off Karofsky. Finn’s about to throw another punch before realizing that those hands belong to Coach Shannon.

“Alright, break it up. Break it up!” she repeats when Karofsky scrambles up. He was trying to take down Finn by grabbing his ankles. “Break it up! What are you numskulls doing? This is the fifth fight I’ve had to break up this week and it’s only Tuesday. You’re supposed to be fighting together, not each other.”

“Sorry Coach, but Karofsky insulted Quinn and I-”

“Get your personal problems off the field Hudson. I don’t want to hear them,” she says. Kurt’s watching from behind, standing a little too close to her. “We’re barely scraping by this season because you guys won’t listen to each other. That’s it. I’m adding an extra practice. Thursdays, 3:30. Cancel your other plans.”

Finn can barely breathe. He’s doubled over with his hands on his knees. Taking a minute to catch his breath, he says, “But Coach, that’s during one of our Glee Club rehearsals.”

Coach snorts. “I don’t think you heard me Hudson. Thursdays, 3:30. Cancel your other plans. I’m sick of you three missing practices,” she gestures to Puck and then to Kurt at her side, “and now you have to decide where your loyalties are. If I don’t see you this Thursday you’re off the te- Hummel get back here I wasn’t done talking!”

Kurt leaves mid-sentence, not bothering to look back as Coach runs after him.

The rest of the team disperses. Most of them complain about the added practices, shooting both Finn and Karofsky dirty looks as they do so. Azimio looks like he’s about to clock Finn in the chest but decides against it at the last second. They saw what Coach can, and will, do.

“Well dude. It was fun while it lasted,” Puck says, clasping Finn’s shoulder with his hands.

Finn shrugs them off. “You made up your mind that quickly? Bro yesterday you sang a song in front of the entire club because Rachel said you couldn’t do it.”

Puck raises a brow. “Yeah, I did. So what? I’m not gay dude but everyone thinks I’m gay because I joined Glee. Without football I’ll look super gay.”

“Dude, I thought we were over this already,” Finn says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Being gay gets you thrown into dumpsters and locked in porta-potties. You can ask Hummel about it if you want. I’m not planning on losing all my cred and you shouldn’t too,” Puck says. His tone makes Finn believe Puck actually means all of this. “You have a kid on the way dude. It’s time to man-up.”

***

Santana runs into the bathroom, giggling and tugging on Brittany’s sleeve. People were giving them weird looks in the hallway but she couldn’t care less. She just finished making the rounds in the boys’ locker room with Brittany. No touching, of course, but definitely staring. Lots and lots of staring. It didn’t take long for the guys to start tripping over themselves to get to her.

“It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing,” she says at the same time as Brittany, who giggles right after. “God, boys are so stupid.” 

Brittany nods, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Her ponytail snapped off on the way over and now her hair is ruffled from running. It works in a way only Brittany can pull off. “Yeah. All I had to do was hold hands with you.”

“And you kissed me on the cheek,” Santana reminds her. Pulling out her makeup bag from its spot under the sink, she checks out the state of her lipstick in the mirror. She swipe a fresh layer on. Batting her eyes at her reflection, she smiles, tenderly touching the lipstick kiss on her cheek. “It worked like a charm. Now all we have to do is wait and watch them tear each other apart. Coach Shannon _will_ have to do something about it.”

“Wait, that’s what we were doing? I just thought you wanted to hold hands with me. The internet says that ghosts can’t touch you if you’re in a couple,” Brittany says. She reaches over and plucks Santana’s lipstick out of her hands.

Santana’s smile disappears as fast as it came. “We’re not a couple Britt.”

She doesn’t do ‘couples’ or any of that romantic bullcrap. That’s how you get your heart broken and Santana would rather get sent straight down to Hell than let some stupid boy break her heart. See, that’s the one thing she has over Quinn. Quinn let Finn into her life too easily. She didn’t make him work hard enough. Santana knows better. Boys will always be boys.

That’s why she prefers hanging out with girls. Sure most of them are bitches who will inevitably marry some Lima Loser and spend the rest of their lives regretting it, but sometimes Santana strikes gold. She did with Quinn.

Santana looks over at Brittany.

“A couple is two people, right? We’re two people.”

And she did with Brittany. It’s just that sometimes she feels like she and Brittany are having two different conversations. She doesn’t even know where to begin with trying to explain to Brittany that there’s a difference between a couple and a pair of best friends.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Santana says. “All that matters is that by the end of the week, we’ll be back on Coach Sylvester’s good side- “

“Her left,” Brittany adds on.

“Right.” Wetting a paper towel, Santana starts rubbing the lipstick mark off her face. “Soon that stupid Glee Club will be gone and we can focus on getting Q back on the squad.”

Brittany tilts her head to the side, part of her hair sweeping over one of her eyes. Her left one. “I don’t want the Glee Club gone. It’s fun and it makes you happy.”

Santana’s frown deepens. She pulls Brittany over and swipes the hair out of her eyes. Her makeup bag doesn’t have a spare ponytail but it does have a ribbon. Turning Brittany around, Santana grabs as much of her hair as she can. “No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.” Brittany turns her head slightly to look at Santana and, in the process, slips her hair out of Santana’s grasp. “You smile more in the choir room than you do during practice. I like it when you smile. I like it when you’re happy.”

Santana’s face warms. She places a hand on Brittany’s shoulder and gently urges her to turn back around. Working on instinct, Santana ties Brittany’s hair up and, after a moment of thinking, tightens the ribbon into a little bow.

***

“So, how can I help you kids?” Miss Pillsbury asks, moving a vase of flowers from one side of her desk to the other.

Quinn turns to Finn and whispers, “Why are we here again? Miss Pillsbury wasn’t who I had in mind when you said you found someone who can help us.”

“Miss Pillsbury was cool once. She can help us with the whole ‘me getting slushied’ thing,” Finn whispers back as Miss Pillsbury moves the vase back to its original place. She’s been doing this ever since they walked in, and Finn’s pretty sure this is what she’s been doing all day.

“I thought we were here because of the baby!” Quinn whispers, this time with a ferocity Finn wasn’t expecting.

“You are,” Miss Pillsbury says. ”Finn talked to me about this earlier but he said he wanted you in the room for this, ah, next bit.”

Right. Here we go. Finn’s imagined this scene over and over again. Most of his fantasies ended with him dumped and Quinn running out of the room crying, but some of them turned out okay and Finn’s banking on this unlikely shot. “Coach is making me choose football over Glee.”

Miss Pillsbury stops in the process of moving the vase again. “Finn, you’ve made a decision already? I thought this was going to be a discussion.”

“It won’t be,” Quinn says. She looks at Finn. “You can’t quit football, you need a scholarship.”

Finn hates that this keeps getting brought up. He didn’t know what he was going to do after graduation before he became a father and now he _really_ doesn’t know. His mom doesn’t even know about the baby yet. Finn wants to tell her. He used to tell her everything, and he knows she’ll support him no matter what.

But he can’t rely on her all the time and he can’t rely on her forever. He’s sixteen and Puck was right. He needs to man-up.

“I suggested one for music the last time Finn and I talked. It’s riskier but there are plenty of good schools around the area that offer one. And you don’t even need to go to college, Finn. Plenty of students start off with jobs around town even before graduation. Breadstix is always hiring and they have a preference for McKinley students.”

Quinn isn’t having it. “There’s no way that he can support himself on a part-time job.”

Miss Pillsbury looks at her, and then at Finn, and then back to Quinn. “Are you keeping the baby?”

“Finn, this isn’t a discussion. You need to stay on the football team,” Quinn says. She reaches over and grabs his hand. “If not for the baby, then for you and me. Please Finn, I can’t handle walking through the halls if I know I might get slushied at any moment. I get enough harassment as it is.”

“Do the slushies actually hurt you kids? Should I be concerned?”

“Alright, okay. I’m staying on the team,” Finn says, failing to keep the uncertainty out of his voice.

But then Quinn smiles that beautiful, gentle smile that made Finn fall in love with her in the first place. He places his hand over hers. “I’ll leave the Glee Club as well,” she says, “I have to be a supportive girlfriend, even if I can’t cheer for you officially anymore.”

Miss Pillsbury clears her throat. Nervously tapping her desk with bitten nails, she asks, “Are-are you sure? The Glee Club needs ten members to qualify for Sectionals and if you two leave, they’ll only have seven.”

“Six,” Finn corrects almost automatically, “Puck is leaving too.”

That just makes Miss Pillsbury more nervous. Finn catches her taking a quick glance at the framed picture of Mr. Schue on her desk.

“Speaking of leaving,” Quinn says, standing up. She lets her hand slip out of Finn’s. “we should go. I have to go to my locker and grab my jacket before class.”

They both say goodbye to Miss Pillsbury and leave her office. Quinn holds onto Finn’s arm, tightening when they run into Karofsky, Azimio, and the rest of the guys on the football team. Finn looks back towards Miss Pillsbury’s office. He doesn’t know how they didn’t see them earlier. Miss Pillsbury’s office has a glass wall.

Most of the guys have slushie cups in their hands but, looking closer, Finn realizes that nearly all of them are empty.

Karofsky steps up with a bruise on his face that Finn definitely gave him. Quinn squeaks, ducking behind Finn.

“Come on guys. Miss Pillsbury is right there,” Finn says.

“She’s not going to do anything,” Karofsky says. Everyone knows he’s right, she’s too scared of them.

Finn presses his lips into a thin line. He coaxes Quinn out from behind him and tells her to get her jacket without him. She shakes her head, her face flushed undoubtedly out of embarrassment for using him as a shield.

“Are you here to slushie me? Go ahead, just leave Quinn out of this,” Finn says.

“Well, this one was for you,” Karofsky holds out a slushie. It’s so full that some of it drips out of the top. “but we heard you’re staying with the guys.”

Quinn moves up to stand at Finn’s side. She smiles up at him. “He is. He’s leaving the club.”

“We weren’t talking to you Mother Teresa,” Azimio says. Quinn narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t believe you Hudson. You better not be messing with us.”

“I’m not. I’m choosing the team.”

“Yeah? Prove it to us.” Azimio grabs the slushie out of Karofsky’s hands. Quinn flinches when he raises it up her direction, but it’s only barely noticeable. She goes right back to standing firmly by Finn’s side.

But Finn knows better than to believe that he’s supposed to slushie his girlfriend. He’s learned a lot of things since he started doing Glee and he doesn’t need to turn around to know that his target is one of the members of the Glee Club. He just doesn’t know who. 

At her locker, Mercedes straightens her bright purple raincoat. She laughs at something Rachel says. To her right is Kurt. 

Finn sighs. “Dude, are you serious? The whole reason Coach is upping our practice time is because we can’t work together. Kurt’s our teammate.”

Karofsky snorts. “He’s not part of the team anymore. He made the wrong choice. Either Hummel gets slushied or we’ll slushie you _and_ your girl the next time we see you.”

Azimio pushes the slushie into Finn’s hands. It’s like he’s being handed a gun. He swirls the slushie, the syrup bright red and smelling achingly sweet. Quinn’s expression is steely and Finn can’t tell whether or not she wants him to do it until he feels her start to shake a little.

“Okay, okay,” Finn says. He tugs on Quinn’s shirt but she stays put.

“You’ve got some balls Fabray. More than your man,” Karofsky says, jeering at her. “Too bad God can’t protect you now.”

“Go Finn,” is all she says.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. The faster he can get this done, the better. 

It didn’t occur to Finn that Kurt might have already told the club about everything until he realizes that Mercedes refuses to look at him when he comes over. 

“Finn,” Rachel says, eyeing the drink in his hand, “What are you-”

“Do it.”

Finn can’t bring himself to look at Kurt, even when he repeats his request. “I don’t want to,” he admits.

“Is this the way you’re choosing to tell us you’re leaving? By attacking us?” Rachel asks. There’s a fire in her eyes that Finn hasn’t seen in a long time. She’s definitely never looked at him like this before. It makes his stomach flip.

“Just Kurt, actually,” he says in lieu of a good response.

Rachel gasps. “Finn!”

“Just let him go Rachel,” Kurt says, surprisingly calm for someone in his position, “He’s made his choice. Now do it before the bell rings or I’m going to have to spend the next hour helping Miss Pillsbury scrub artificial flavoring out of her office carpet.”

Mercedes steps in-between Kurt and Finn. She’s a good few inches shorter than Finn but he knows she can destroy him. Not physically. Spiritually. “You are not gonna slushie my man Kurt.”

“She’s right.”

Artie places herself between him and Kurt too. She’s already covered in slushie.

“I really don’t want to, but if I don’t Quinn’s going to get slushied everyday and she’s dealing with so much stuff already,” Finn says, looking at his feet in shame. He’s doing this for Quinn, he’s doing this for their kid.

“Will throwing that at me prevent that from happening?” Kurt asks.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Artie strains her neck trying to examine the slushie in his hands. “What flavor is it? Cherry?”

“Raspberry,” he answers. There’s a beat of silence where Finn can see hesitation flicker across Kurt’s face. Then Finn remembers, “Oh, it’s your favorite flavor. I know ‘cause all of your lotions and stuff smell like it.”

“Your stuff smells like raspberry slushie?” Rachel asks Kurt.

Kurt keeps his eyes locked on Finn. “No, but he’s right. A lot of my face products are infused with antioxidants, usually from fruit. I’m going to ignore the implication that Finn likes to smell me and feel touched instead.”

“I mean, you put on a lot of lotion. It’s not that hard to- what are you doing?”

Kurt’s taken the slushie out of Finn’s hands. Looking Finn in the eyes, he throws the slushie at himself. Everyone’s silent as he pulls some ice out of his hair. Finn doesn’t miss how Kurt’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“That was called taking one for the team,” Kurt says, “Now get out of here, and make sure to tell Quinn that one slushie isn’t going to save her. The next time I’m going to have to be slushied, I want it to be from her.”

Finn has no idea what just happened. It’s so surreal that he has to look at Rachel to make sure he’s not dreaming or something. She’s just standing there with her jaw dropped open. He takes the cup back from Kurt and hurries to get back to Quinn but not before he hears Kurt say, “Someone get me to a day-spa, stat.”

He’s met with open arms by the football team. Karofsky’s agitated but not by what Finn did. It looks like Quinn’s been doing a great job at distracting them. At some point Puck must have joined her because he’s standing at her side.

“Welcome back man,” Azimio says, grinning, “Hey, see you at practice tomorrow.”

And with that, all the guys except for Puck leave. Quinn follows them for a second to take one last bite at Karofsky.

Puck bumps his shoulder against Finn’s. “We need to talk. Meet me in the mancave during lunch.”

***

Finn and Puck spend lunch on autopilot. The guys on the team try to get them to join their conversation about the next game but they’re both too preoccupied thinking about what just happened. Puck has to actually pull Finn out of his seat because they almost forgot about the meeting they planned.

Puck makes sure the mancave is cleared out before he lets Finn in. There’s a minute of silence where Finn’s just staring at the wall. Puck’s struggling to think about what to say to him.

Eventually he settles on saying, “I slushied Artie.”

“I know,” Finn says, “No one else has the balls to do it except for you and Karofsky.”

Those words feel like a punch in the gut but he ignores them. “You’re lucky you got Hummel. Artie was gonna turn me into roadkill before I got away. She’s fast dude. Like, stupid fast.” 

He takes a moment to prepare himself for what he’s about to say. “I changed my mind. I’m choosing Glee.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “What? Dude, they’ll kick the crap out of you.”

For some reason, Puck feels disappointed at that response. It’s so surface-level, and something Finn shouldn’t care about. Still, he gives Finn a wry grin. “They can try but I have a secret weapon up my sleeve. All the guys in my family know how to use one and the Puckster happens to be an expert at wielding it.”

Finn matches his grin. “A knife.”

“What? No dude. I’m not planning on going back to juvie again,” Puck says, “I’m talking about a chick. Brittany. Artie told me about it after she calmed down. She just hangs around Brittany and everyone’s too scared to slushie her because of Santana. I mean, not me. Santana doesn’t scare me. That much.”

“Wait, how come no one slushies Brittany and Santana? If Quinn and I are fair game then why aren’t they? Is it because they’re... “

Puck shakes his head. “No. We’re all minorities, remember? Brittany’s hooked up with everyone on the team. Santana too. They both have dirt on everyone.” He’s never actual touched Brittany. Santana never lets him get close enough to the other cheerleaders to let him grab one, let alone Brittany. 

“Oh, I get it. It’s like what Coach says. About working together, I mean. There’s strength in numbers, or something,” Finn says, face lighting up in realization before dimming again, “I want to come back but I can’t. I need a football scholarship. I need to be a good dad. I want my kid to feel lucky that he has me as his dad.”

His kid. Puck’s kid. He leans back against the wall. “Yeah? What would your kid think if he knew you almost attacked a gay guy?”

“I didn’t attack him. I was just... ” Finn sighs. “I wasn’t actually going to do it.”

“Why? ‘Cause Rachel was there? Quinn was watching too but I know she thought you were going to do it. Hey, what’s going on with you guys?”

Finn joins him by the wall, making sure to keep a good couple of inches between them. “I don’t know. Everything’s so confusing. Quinn’s been making me watch these birthing videos and I still don’t understand how the baby will come out of her. The thing with Rachel’s weird. I’m not in love with her or anything, it’s just that sometimes Quinn’s too much. And Rachel’s kinda nice.”

“Didn’t Pillsbury say something about a singing scholarship? Hate to break it to you dude, but you kinda need to sing to get that. I’m not saying you should hook up with Rachel but if you keep practicing with her you won’t need that football scholarship. Also, come on,” Puck says, giving Finn a bro-smack to the chest, “We can totally win Sectionals if you stay.”

Finn smiles, and it’s a welcome sight. “Is that why you’re choosing the club too?”

“To get a singing scholarship? Nah but now that I think about it, that’s a good idea. Hey, maybe we can get into the same college. Acafellas, right?” Pucks asks.

The sound of wheels on tile makes them both freeze. They turn to the entrance of the mancave as the sound of the lightswitch flipping on resonates around the room. Artie stays in the doorway, sniffing disdainfully at her surroundings. 

“I thought I’d find you guys in here,” she says, not bothering to come in further.

“Hey, this is Finn and I’s mancave. No chicks allowed.”

“This is the boys’ bathroom. Eat rubber Puckerman,” she says, “Anyway, I was sent by Rachel to tell you that Coach Shannon’s calling off the extra practices. She finally figured out that the football team’s useless without you guys and Kurt, and that the reason why you guys are fighting all the time is because you’re all exhausted from her amped up warmups. Exhaustion usually leads to irritation and then aggression in most mammal species.”

Puck shares a confused with Finn.

Artie sighs. “When you’re tired, you get mad.”

“Ohh.”

“How do you two manage to remember to breathe?”

“So we don’t have to choose anymore?” Finn asks.

“Nope,” Artie says.

Finn’s smile returns, although this time it’s more nervous. “Kurt?”

“He’s fine. He went home early though because we accidentally scrubbed all the face products off his face when we were cleaning him up. Mercedes texted him, he’s going to stay on both teams.” She pauses. “What do you think Mr. Schue’s favorite slushie flavor is?”

Puck shrugs. He looks to Finn, who also shrugs.

“Well we’re about to find out. Choir room. Ten minutes. We have two slushies with your names on them.” Artie turns around but before she does, she grins. 

“Welcome back to the team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: There was an entire plotline this episode about Puck trying to get with Rachel because they’re both Jewish. We cut it. This show hates Jewish people.
> 
> In canon, Kurt did leave the football team but he didn’t come back. We have plans for him, though. So he’s staying for a little longer.
> 
> The Brittana scenes weren’t in the original draft of this chapter but Micah added them in since they got a few suggestions / requests from people on Tumblr and on here. We really do value feedback from you guys and we do discuss them in the writers’ room, which can lead to departures from our original ideas of episodes like this one. So don’t be afraid to reach out to one (or all) of us if you have any suggestions!


	9. Wheels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Coach Shannon added extra practices so the Glee Club boys had to decide between staying on the football team and staying in the club. Kurt left the team but Finn and Puck stayed, and Finn had to slushie Kurt but Kurt took one for the team and reminded Finn what it meant to be on a team in the first place. Later the practices were called off and the boys chose to stay on both teams. Also Brittany and Santana are running out of chances to take down the Glee Club.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryan Murphy: “This episode is the turning point for Glee.”  
> Cecelia: “This chapter is the turning point for this fic.”
> 
> This is one of our favorite episodes in season 1. It's certainly one of Cecelia's, so enjoy a much longer chapter than usual!
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Kurt Hummel was born to be a champion.

At least, that’s what Coach Shannon tells him right before sending him out onto the field for yet another field goal. 

He’s finally learned the name of the thing, though he still doesn’t understand how a giant yellow Y can conceptually count as a “goal.”

“McKinley 27, Westvale 21. Thirty-six seconds to go, fourth and four, and Hummel will try a forty-two yard field goal to put the game out of reach.” The PA system crackles with the voice of the play by play announcer, who Kurt is pretty sure is just the one guy in the AV Club who doesn’t hate sports, and whose delivery has gotten more and more energetic in every game Kurt’s played. “This is to give the Titans sole possession of first place in the Southeast division, and Hummel is 12 for 12 so far on the season.”

The team lines up and he gets ready to kick, but the whistle blows as Westvale calls a timeout. Which is quite irritating; he’s been standing around in these pads for two hours and he can practically hear his hair crying out for rescue from the fashion-wrecker that is the inside of a helmet. 

Finn explained to him weeks ago that teams try to “ice” kickers to make them nervous, but Kurt knows from years of slushie assaults what being “iced” feels like, and this is laughable by comparison. Besides, kicking isn’t psychological; Kurt couldn’t have been less invested in the outcomes of these games if the championship trophy was a John Mellencamp record, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to miss. It’s just too easy. 

As he’s lining up to make the kick, though, something goes wrong. That giant number 55 on Westvale - Finn called him a linebacker, Kurt thinks - is backing up and crouching down, like a tiger ready to catch his prey. Kurt’s never seen anyone do that, and apparently neither have his blockers. 

By the time he realizes he should call timeout, it’s too late. The ball is snapped, and the linebacker takes a running leap and vaults right over the head of the long snapper. Kurt automatically swings his leg, a perfect motion that on any other day would send the ball straight through the uprights dead center, but the defender’s enormous arms send the ball out of the air and straight into the ground, where it bounces right up into Kurt’s chest. 

This is his worst nightmare. He’s holding a football in the middle of a live play, and he doesn’t need to know the intricacies of blocked field goal rules to know that every single player on the other team is now well within their rights to put him on the ground in the most painful way possible. 

Finn is on the sidelines, screaming at him to fall down, and Kurt would be happy to oblige, except he sees Puck wide open behind the scrum, with not a single soul between him and the endzone. And apparently he’s been playing this game long enough now that before he can even think about what a terrible decision he’s making, he’s drawing back his arm to try to throw the pass. He’s never thrown a football in his life, but surely it can’t be that hard. Puck is right there.

He hears the screams of anguish from the McKinley crowd before he even realizes that the ball has slipped out of his hands, and looks up to see it fluttering against the clear sky, moving so slowly it seems almost frozen. As the sinking feeling of what he knows is about to happen drops into his stomach like a ton of bricks, he only has time to take one more futile swipe at the thing before a mass of blue jerseys piledrives him into the turf. 

Later, Finn will tell him that the fastest player on the other team snatched the ball out of the air and easily outraced Puck to the endzone for the winning touchdown. He doesn’t absorb these details as he’s laying on the painfully artificial facsimile of grass, his body screaming with the telltale signs of bruises that will take weeks to fade and his mind slowly numbing itself to the horror of what he’s just done, which is to burn away all the careful goodwill this football op had built up over the last month and put himself directly into the crosshairs of the slushie squads. 

One mistake, and he’s right back to square one. 

“And that’s the game.” The announcer sounds like he’s seen a ghost. “The winning streak comes to an end with a sixty-five yard blocked field goal return. The final score: Westvale 28, McKinley 27.” 

As the audience boos, Kurt makes a beeline for the shower, ignoring Coach Shannon’s incredulous tirade about “situational football” and avoiding eye contact with the threatening glares he knows are fixed on him from all sides, desperately wishing he could be up in the bleachers, joining in. 

He gets in and out of the locker room without incident, thanks to Puckerman silently flanking him the entire time; he doesn’t say anything, which Kurt is very grateful for. He gets all the way to the edge of the field, his dad’s car in his line of vision, when Finn catches up to him.

“Save it, Finn.” Kurt doesn’t even bother to look at the quarterback. He doesn’t need this. “I know exactly what I’ve done to the team, and exactly what I’ve done to myself.”

“Woah, hey, hold up.” Finn puts a hand on his shoulder, and his grip is so gentle that Kurt comes to a startled halt. He turns around, and is surprised to see that Finn’s eyes are as soft and forgiving as he’s ever seen them. 

“You know what you did? You did the exact same thing that the kicker for the Miami Dolphins did in their legendary perfect season of 1972. Except he did it in the Super Bowl. Sure, they ended up winning anyway, but it’s the only play that anyone remembers from that game.” 

Kurt searches for the teasing in Finn’s face, and finds nothing. “You’re making that up to make me feel better.” 

“I’m not, I swear to God!” He shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face. “This game isn’t on you. Well, okay, it kind of is, but our last four wins are also only because of you. So you’re still a plus three. I think.” 

Kurt sighs. “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but you know as well as I do that the way the other guys feel about me isn’t exactly rooted in logic. Ever since Coach Shannon caved to Schuester on the practice schedule, they’ve been looking for a reason to reimpose the proper social order, and now I’ve given them one.”

“I’m not gonna let that happen.” The ferocity in Finn’s voice is startling - Kurt’s seen this kind of anger plenty of times before, but it usually isn’t on his side. “I’m done letting these guys hurt my friends.” 

“They won’t go easy on you,” Kurt warns. “You’ll get Quinn caught in the crossfire.” 

His face darkens, and Kurt wonders just how much longer that relationship can actually last. “I won’t let that happen either.” 

“You’re not invincible, Finn. Just very, very large. There’s a difference.” 

“Look, let me worry about the guys. I’m the quarterback, it’s kind of my job. What you need is to get your mojo back.” 

Kurt laughs without humor. “Well, I can certainly make some more field goals next week, but I’m not sure how much help that’s going to be at this point.” 

Finn shakes his head. “No, I’m not talking about football. You’re an amazing kicker, but the most amazing thing about it is that it’s not the thing you’re best at. You need to refocus on Glee. It’s like, your passion, or whatever.”

“You make a good point,” Kurt concedes, “But I don’t see how adding barely audible countertenor harmonies to Journey songs will make much of a difference, either. And I don’t really anticipate Mr. Schue suddenly discovering new ways to use me anytime soon.” He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he can’t quite succeed. It’s been a long day, and with Sectionals shaping up to be the Rachel Berry Project, it’s turning into a long month.

“So don’t leave it up to Mr. Schue. He’s unveiling the setlist for Sectionals, right? Ask him to audition for the solo spot.”

It’s not that Kurt hasn’t thought of doing exactly that, but hearing it from Finn is different, somehow. He finds himself grinning in spite of himself.

“Wow. I’m flattered, but do you really want to be in the room for the inevitable Rachel Berry freakout if I actually try that?”

Finn laughs, and Kurt is struck by how relaxed their dynamic is now, almost like a real friendship. _When did that happen?_

“Ah, Rachel will get over it. I know she acts like a sore loser all the time - and I guess a sore winner, too - but secretly? I think she really wants the competition.”

“Yeah, but that’s why she’s into you. You’re the leading man she can play off of.” 

Finn grimaces. “She certainly wants me to be. And I love singing with Rachel, I do. But we’re from different worlds, you know? And to be honest, sometimes I feel like I’m her Player 2 in a game that I don’t know is happening.”

 _I wouldn’t assume Rachel knows, either,_ Kurt thinks, but he knows better than to say that out loud. It’s way too soon. 

“But I think that’s why it’s important that you challenge her,” Finn continues, “because you can keep up with her in ways that I can’t. It’d be good for both of you, and as someone who knows what puts teams over the top from ‘pretty good’ to something special, I think it’s the only way we win this year.” 

As oblivious as he can be, Kurt is starting to realize that Finn Hudson is actually really smart. 

“You know, for someone who was trying to slushie me just last week, that was a pretty good job of emotional support.” 

Finn looks so ashamed that Kurt starts to clarify that he was just teasing, but Finn cuts him off.  


“Look, Kurt, I was a coward. I needed to make a hard choice, and instead I tried to make excuses for taking the easy way out. But when you took that slushie… you helped me remember what being a real man is all about. So go and be yourself, take charge of Glee Club, and if any of the Titans come after you they’ll have to go through me first. I owe you that much.” 

This has to be the most ridiculous night of Kurt’s life, because he's getting honest-to-god choked up from talking to Finn Hudson after a football game, but fortunately he’s spared the embarrassment of further emotionality by the horn of his dad’s car cutting across the otherwise empty parking lot, an unmistakable signal for them to wrap it up.

What his dad thinks they’ve been talking about, Kurt can only imagine. 

“Well, I can’t very well turn down the chance to have my own personal security detail, can I? I’ll do it.” 

Finn holds out his fist, and Kurt obliges with his own. Their knuckles touch, and the smile that lights up Finn’s face leaves no doubt that they really are on the same team now. And Kurt would be lying if he said it didn’t feel pretty amazing. 

As he turns toward his car, where his dad is looking out the driver’s side window with a quizzically raised eyebrow, Finn calls out to him one last time. “Hey Kurt.”

“Yeah?” 

“Kick Rachel’s ass.” 

Kurt grins, throwing up a mock salute. “Gladly.” 

When his dad asks him how he’s doing, he doesn’t have to lie to say he’s going to be fine.

***

Artie Abrams has had about enough of Will Schuester.

It’s bad enough that he thinks he as an authentic appreciation for the history of hip hop, effectively ruining the club’s perception of rap music - and her chances of ever shining as an artist - by trying to take his shirt off to perform _Bust a Move._ And it’s bad enough that his ability to make decisions and keep control of his class is so pitiful he might as well be a Rachel Berry sockpuppet. 

But this is the last straw. 

“I don’t care how sorry you are. This is literally an ADA violation, Mr. Schue.” 

Schuester actually throws his hands up, like this is a Journey song he has to cut from a setlist and not the only wheelchair user in the club being isolated from her friends because the administration thinks the Cheerios’ dry cleaning budget is more important than her ability to get to her own extracurriculars and the Republican bastards on the school board think they can get away with looking the other way. 

“Look, I know this isn’t fair Artie. But the wheelchair-accessible bus is out of our price range. Figgins controls the purse strings; there’s nothing we can do.” 

“So we just lay down and ask her to take it because we don’t feel like standing up for our friend?” Mercedes’s voice is measured, but her eyes are furious. Artie feels a rush of affection - she couldn’t ask for a better best friend. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” 

Will actually tries to ignore her. “Do you think your parents can give you a ride to Sectionals?”

“She shouldn’t have to ask.” Rachel isn’t trying to keep the anger out of her voice, and well, that’s a bit more out of left field. “And if you really insist on leaving one of our teammates to fend for themselves without a fight, I’m sure my dads would be more than happy to help Artie sue the school for discrimination. They have a long history of legal advocacy, I’m sure it won’t take them long to get a handle on the relevant provisions of the ADA.” 

Artie can’t help but smile at that. Rachel Berry’s existence is perpetually exhausting, and Artie long ago gave up trying to figure out what makes her tick. But she’s absolutely ferocious, and if she’s on your side that intensity can be incredibly useful. Sure, this is probably just part of her long-game optimized strategy for winning Sectionals, but it’s still nice to have her in her corner.

Mercedes looks just as surprised at Rachel’s outburst, but she gives Artie a reassuring smile before fixing her gaze on Schuester. “Face it, Mr. Schue. Either we all go together or none of us go.”

Schuester shakes his head, his circa-1999 Timberlake ramen noodle hair flopping pitifully from side to side. “I appreciate that you’re supporting your teammate, but you can’t unilaterally declare a boycott, Mercedes. Or file a lawsuit, Rachel. We all have to make sacrifices so this team can succeed.” 

“We’re not a team if we’re sacrificing one of our own because the alternative is inconvenient.” Everyone’s heads swivel towards Finn, who spoke so quietly it takes a second for Artie to realize he actually said it. But when Finn looks up, he’s got a fire in his eyes to match anything that Rachel could bring to the table. “It’s not a unicyclical boycott or whatever. We’re all in this together. Right guys?” 

“Right.” Quinn is looking at Finn with more fondness than Artie has seen out of that girl in years, at least until her eyes turn to Schuester and her expression shifts to the kind of contempt that only she can pull off. _“We’re all minorities,_ remember?”

“We can’t leave Artie behind,” Brittany pipes up. “We’d be driving at night with no moon to light the way.” God, Artie would be in love with that girl if she wasn’t currently holding Santana’s hand like it was an extension of herself. “Right, Santana?”

Santana rolls her eyes, but her trademark cynicism is entirely absent as she gazes at Brittany like she’s the only person in the room. It’s gross, but Artie loves it. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

“Mr. Schuester, if I may.” Kurt leans forward, his star-speckled bandanna and navy blue bomber jacket making him look bizarrely patriotic. “Given the outbreak of camaraderie this roadblock has inspired, wouldn’t it make more sense to harness this energy to try to fix the problem than to insist that there’s nothing we can do?” 

Artie isn’t usually sentimental about stuff like this, but damn it if these guys aren’t making her all warm and fuzzy. Her parents have always been there, and recently Mercedes has too. But school has always been pretty merciless, and even if she likes Kurt and tolerates Rachel enough to enjoy singing with them, she’s never gotten a show of mass support like this. 

Even if she suspects that if she asked each of them why they did it, she’d get seven different answers laden with seven different kinds of personal baggage. 

Fortunately, Schuester decides to spare her any embarrassment by further humiliating himself, because oh god he’s actually got tears in his eyes. 

“Mr. Schue? Are you okay?” Artie doesn’t really care, but she figures it’s polite to ask. 

“I’m just…so proud of you guys. You’ve learned the lessons I’ve been teaching you better than I have. So we’re going to do it. We’re going to get the money for the bus, and we’re all going to Sectionals together.” He turns to the whiteboard, uncaps his new marker, and writes ‘FUNDRAISING’ in his signature underlined block letters. 

“Huh.” He frowns. “Not quite as punchy as I would have liked, but it’ll have to do. Ideas. Throw ‘em out.” 

Rachel’s, of course, is the first hand up. “The rest of the girls could sell our hair. It worked for Fantine - well, sort of.” 

“Wow, let’s slow down a second.” Will cuts her off. “No one is selling anything that personal.”

 _Pity, that._ Artie thinks. Rachel isn’t her type, but she’d look damn good with a bob. 

“I could capitalize on my rapidly waning popularity with the football players by setting up a slushie booth,” Kurt chimes in. “$5 for a free shot with raspberry, $15 for cherry, $25 for grapefruit. We could buy out Sue Sylvester’s contract by lunch.” 

“Guys!” Will taps his marker against the board in agitation. “Not exactly the direction I’m looking for. You kids are way too eager to self-martyr.” He sighs, running his hands through that distractingly anachronistic hair. “How about we start small. What do you think about a bake sale?”

Dead silence. 

“Mr. Schue, no offense, but that’s exactly the kind of safe charity pitch that the rest of the school is just gonna sneer at on their way past,” Mercedes explains. “We aren’t exactly a robust brand among the student body.” 

“Leave it to me.” 

Artie’s pitch of raising the money herself with a one-person medley performance of LL Cool J’s greatest hits dies in her throat when she hears the words come out of the mouth of the one person who hadn’t said a word yet, and who she would have assumed would want nothing to do with this. 

“Puck, are you sure?” Finn looks less surprised - those two have seemed to be getting on a bit better ever since recommitting to Glee, she thinks - but the signature confusion on his face tells her this is indeed pretty strange. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve been baking for years, and I know I can bring something a little extra to it, if you know what I mean.” 

Of course. Artie should have known. What else was it going to be from the guy behind the Vitamin D gambit? She catches Puck’s eye, but can’t quite decipher the look on his face. She doesn’t trust him; she isn’t even a week removed from attempting to run him over for making her a target to save his own skin. And she might never forgive him for all those years enforcing the economies of cruelty that made her life so much harder than it needed to be. But if this is a world where Narcissus incarnate Rachel Berry can suddenly become an aspiring disability rights advocate, then she supposes even Noah Puckerman deserves a chance to prove himself. 

“Thanks.” She keeps her tone as neutral as she can manage. 

He smiles, and if it isn’t genuine, it's the best fake Artie’s ever seen. 

“No problem. It’s for a good cause.” 

It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Artie thinks that maybe this Glee experiment is going to turn out better than any of them imagined. Even if they still won’t let her rap. 

Will lets out a sigh of relief. “All right, great job on coming together and helping each other out, everyone. Now there’s just one more order of business. I’ve almost finalized the setlist, and for our solo showcase, I’m thinking we go full Broadway.” He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“Rachel, how do you feel about _Defying Gravity?”_

***

Rachel Berry was born to a star.

Her dads told her that once, but mostly it’s what she tells herself in the mirror every single morning. And after so many long weeks of compromising, of holding back her talents for the sake of the team, this is finally going to be her moment to shine. Once they hear her deliver the most iconic Broadway number of the last twenty years, they will understand why she’s always been the best chance they have at getting anywhere this year. 

“I applaud your choice, Mr. Schue. The definitive song from the definitive musical of our generation as our opening number will clinch Sectionals for us before the rest of the team even takes the stage.” 

“Wow, Rachel, tell us how you really feel,” mutters Mercedes. Rachel ignores her. 

“In order to maximize the effectiveness of the number, I have some ideas for the arrangement that I think will really bring out the best in my voice.” She’s halfway to the piano, where Brad is looking at her with an expression even more indecipherable than usual, when a voice from the back of the choir room stops her in her tracks.

“I want to audition for the solo.”

Oh no. 

She prepares to try to let Kurt down gently, but Mr. Schue beats her to it with a more direct approach. 

“Kurt, there’s a high F in it.” 

“That’s well within my range.” The bluff is delivered with such confidence, and without a single beat of hesitation, that Rachel is honestly impressed. She might have even fallen for it if it weren’t, well, impossible. Kurt’s a great countertenor, probably better than Rachel has been liable to admit, but he’s no Elphaba. She would know if he was.

Even so, her heart starts to jump nervously in her chest. Mr. Schue isn’t actually going to allow this, is he? 

Fortunately, common sense prevails. 

“I appreciate your confidence, Kurt, but I think Rachel will be fine for the female lead. I’ll see if I can get you a solo somewhere else in the setlist, though.” Rachel suppresses a sigh of relief. There’s that bullet dodged.

“Mr. Schue, you should let him do it.” 

Or not. Rachel whirls to face Finn, because she can’t believe he’s actually trying to sabotage her. “Finn, what are you talking about? Even if giving the female lead to a countertenor wasn’t an absurd gimmick on its own, we’ve known since the semester started that I was going to do a solo at Sectionals.” 

“I mean, to be honest, Rachel, you’ve kind of never really asked any of us what we thought about that. And we wouldn’t be giving Kurt anything, but you said it yourself. Being a team means everyone should get the chance to shine.”

Rachel is speechless. Since when did Finn become a white knight for Kurt? She can see him moving in for the kill a half second before the words leave his lips. 

“And besides, if you’re really the best choice for the part, what are you so afraid of?” 

There it is. Nothing for it, now. She takes a breath to steady herself, and tries to smile as best she can. 

“You’re absolutely right, Finn.” She turns to Kurt, whose eyes are burning with an intensity she’s never seen in them before. And even though she knows it’s a good thing, long term, if Kurt thinks he needs to keep up with her, she can’t help but find it a little terrifying. “You’re on, Kurt. Diva-off, one week from today. Bring your best, because I won’t go easy on you.” 

The ghost of a smile flickers across Kurt’s face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Rachel.”

Santana raises her hand. “Not that I really care about Hummelberry’s weird Broadway power plays, but how are we going to decide who wins? If Mr. Schue decides he’ll just pick Rachel, and if we get to vote Kurt will win even if he sounds like Brittany’s cat swallowed a clarinet.” 

Brittany’s eyes widen. “Wait, is that where it went?” 

“That won’t be a problem.” Kurt stands, crossing the room to join Rachel at the piano. “Because I’m holding each and every one of you to voting for the person who sings the song best. Popularity contests won’t help us win, so if Rachel sings the song better - and trust me, with a song like this, you’ll be able to tell - you have to promise to vote for her.” He glances at Rachel, and she thinks something of an understanding passes between them. Maybe this diva-off isn’t such a bad idea after all. He turns back to the club. “Do I have your word?” 

A jumbled murmur of agreement ripples through the room. Kurt offers Rachel his hand. “Good enough?”

Rachel grants the handshake, trying to look as intimidating as possible even as Kurt towers over her. She knows she mostly fails. 

“Good enough.” She looks back at Mr. Schue. “Anything else?” 

He shakes his head. “I think that’s more than enough for this week. Everyone get ready to sell some baked goods, and meet back here next Friday to decide who gets to solo for Sectionals. Dismissed!” 

As they disperse, Rachel is surprised to find Artie rolling up alongside her. 

“Hey, Rach.” The girl’s long hair is tied back in a messy bun, and her glasses are askew on her face, but she looks a lot happier than she did earlier. 

“Hi, Artie. I wanted to say I’m sorry about Mr. Schue. That was uncalled for, and as captain I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“Yes, sure, of course,” Artie says distractedly. “I did want to thank you for standing up for me, that was bizarrely nice of you. But I was kind of wondering where that came from? I mean, I’ve been challenging this school’s inaccessibility for over a year now and I’ve never seen you express interest until now.”

The sinking feeling in Rachel’s stomach tells her every word Artie just said is true. She never used to be bothered by being so focused on herself, but something about the New Directions this year has made maintaining those walls close to impossible. 

She doesn’t mean to, but she snaps her eyes toward the back of the room, where Quinn is deep in conversation with Finn. “I just… I’m sick of people getting left behind for things they can’t control. It’s not right.” 

Artie’s eyes follow hers, and suddenly the girl looks like she’s found the missing piece of a puzzle, which doesn’t really make sense. 

“You know Rachel, we should get coffee sometime. I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about.” She reaches up to pat Rachel’s shoulder, and throws her what is unmistakably a wink before disappearing down the hall. 

Rachel thinks about that exchange all the way home. It wasn’t flirting, she knows that much - she isn’t arrogant enough to think she would ever be Artie’s type - but there was a definite mischief there, a sense that Artie knows something she doesn’t. 

So maybe she’ll take her up on the offer, but right now she has a job to do. She hasn’t tried to sing _Defying Gravity_ in so long. She hasn’t needed to, as it isn’t the Broadway number she’s been honing to perfection as her secret weapon - that, she’s saving for Regionals, if not Nationals. She can only hope that months of exercising her voice mainly on far less challenging Journey songs haven’t diminished her instrument. 

Her dads aren’t home, which is a relief. Usually she wouldn’t care, but her nerves are more jumpy than they’ve been in a while, and she’s glad to have the space to herself. 

It starts out perfectly, her fingers gliding across the piano with effortless muscle memory and her voice easing into the first verse in much the same way. The familiar rush of getting swept up in the musicality of a great song hits her, with every phrase building on the last, her voice soaring and diving across the chorus, and as she builds to the finale she can’t remember why she was ever worried about this in the first place.

_“I’d sooner buy defying gravity  
Kiss me goodbye - ”_

Oh. High F. That’s why.

***

Mercedes has never gotten this angry trying to sell brownies.

But in her defense, she’s never held a bake sale with stakes this high before. 

“If one more person walks by this table without buying one of these, I swear to God… ”

“It’s okay, Mercedes.” Artie nudges her chair closer to to link their arms. “I always knew this was going to be a long shot, but it means a lot to have everyone out here trying. And besides, I think I might have actually have an in with Rachel now, so the litigation path might be more of an option than we thought.”

Mercedes notices the signature wicked gleam in Artie’s eyes and is instantly terrified. 

“Oh God. Please tell me you don’t have a crush on her.”

Artie laughs. “Not to worry, my friend. I may need a new prescription soon, but my eyes aren’t that bad.” She furrows her brow. “Though, honestly, she would be cute if she would just get bangs. And some pants wouldn’t hurt, either.” 

“So what’s this ‘in’ of yours, then?” 

“Oh, I’m just gonna sit her down for some signature Artemis Abrams life advice. I asked her why she stood up to Schuester for me, since, you know, she’s barely spoken to me in all the time we’ve known each other. And it was like I wasn’t even there. No prizes for guessing who she was looking at.”

“She’s still hung up on Finn? I thought she got over that.” She pauses as she notices the look of incredulity on Artie’s face. “What?” 

“You mean you really haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what, Artie? I’m not a mind reader.”

A member of the AV Club stops to half-heartedly buy a brownie, and Artie pauses to put away the cash. She waits for him to get far away, then leans in close. 

“That Rachel Berry has been in love with Quinn Fabray for basically as long as they’ve known each other?” she whispers. 

Wait. What? 

“Artie, Rachel and Quinn have hated each other for as long as they’ve known each other. Rachel spent the entire first month of the semester trying to get with Quinn’s boyfriend!” Mercedes loves her best friend, but sometimes she can be prone to serious fits of moon logic. 

“I never said it was healthy.” Artie shrugs. “But you know I’ve got an eye for this stuff. And this one really isn’t subtle.” 

“If you say so.” Mercedes knows better than to argue. “Though one of these days you need to stop setting people up and get someone for yourself. Have you seen the way Brittany looks at you?” 

Artie shakes her head. “I know better than to mess with destiny, Mercedes.” 

Mercedes doesn’t have to ask for clarification on that one. Even she can see the way Brittany and Santana are around each other. 

“Besides,” Artie continues. “I don’t need a girlfriend. I have you.”

Mercedes takes Artie’s hand. “And you will always have me. I’m more concerned about how the rest of the world is treating you.”

“I could say the same thing to you, you know,” says Artie. “You’re the most talented vocalist we have, and they’ve been treating you like an afterthought for months. Why didn’t you challenge Rachel for the solo?” 

“Oh, I fully intend to, eventually. But Kurt needs this more than me right now, and he’s got more of a chance at winning than I do.” 

Artie looks offended. “Don’t tell lies. Rachel’s a good bet against most high school divas, but she’s no Idina Menzel. And you and I both know you’ve got a stronger high F than both of them, if they can even hit it.” 

“Be that as it may, there’s a reason why the best song in my repertoire is _And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going._ I love singing it, don’t get me wrong, and I really do believe it’ll be enough to beat Rachel when the time comes. But if I tried to challenge for _Defying Gravity,_ it wouldn’t matter how good I was. No one would take me seriously.”

Artie instantly deflates, and Mercedes feels kind of bad for the reality check, but it is what it is. If she’s going to get the recognition she deserves, it’s not going to be by beating Rachel on her own turf. She has to carve her own path. 

“You know I’ve never actually had a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?” 

Mercedes smiles. “Oh come on, it’s only a matter of time. There’s someone out there for you, I know it.” 

Artie shakes her head vigorously. “That’s the point. I _don’t_ know that. I’ve been out as bi for a whole year. Hell, I was out before Kurt. But no one’s ever come after me for it, because it doesn’t even occur to them that I could date anyone.”

Mercedes hates the words coming out of her friend's mouth, mostly because she knows they’re true. That doesn’t mean she can accept them, though. 

“You just need to find someone who loves you for who you are, all of who you are. And it’s gonna happen, I know it will.”

Artie laces their fingers together. “I appreciate that. But I learned to let go of inevitability a long time ago. Maybe it will work out like you say, maybe it won’t. I don’t bother with the guys at this school, they’re just a safety hazard, but I’ve gotten rejected by so many girls in the last year. Some of them are straight. Some of them are just not into me, that’s always a nice surprise. But a lot of them just don’t want to deal with me. They look at me and decide that I’m not worth it, not for the long term anyway.”

Mercedes’ objections are on the tip of her tongue, but Artie sees them and cuts off them.

“But that doesn’t stop me from trying. That’s what I’m getting at. Sure, it’s damn easy to get cynical about things, and sometimes it really doesn’t feel worth it. But I have to live my life, one way or the other. So even if you think there’s no chance, the only way to know for sure is to give it a shot.” 

This is why Mercedes has never gone into Miss Pillsbury’s office. With Artie by her side, she’s never needed to. 

“Tell you what. I really want Kurt to have his shot. But if Rachel wins, I’ll be the next one to step into the arena. If she wants that Sectionals solo, she’ll have to beat us both. Deal?” 

Artie raises their clasped hands and pulls away until only their pinkies are linked, the way they’ve become accustomed to sealing promises. “Deal.” 

“You really are wise, you know that?” 

Artie tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I do, actually.” She pauses to handle another transaction, then looks up and frowns. “Wait a minute. Where did this long line come from?” 

“Word of mouth is beginning to spread. We’ve got it now.” Puck materializes next to them. “Ladies,” he adds by way of greeting. 

“Oh my god, this is the BEST BROWNIE EVER!” 

“I know, bro, I can’t stop eating them.” 

The exclamations ripple through the crowd that has amassed around their suddenly way too small folding table, and Mercedes’s confusion is interrupted by Artie burying her head in her hands to hide her laughter.

“Well done, Puckerman. I got to give you credit, you know how to run one of these hustles. What did you put in them this time?” 

Puck grins. “Ghirardelli Majestic. It’s the only cocoa powder that’s worthy of the Puckerman recipe.” 

Artie’s laughter peters out, and her expression changes to one of bewilderment. “You’re kidding.”

Puck shakes his head. “What do you mean? What else would I put in it?”

“Those aren’t weed brownies?” Artie asks incredulously. 

Puck looks genuinely hurt. “Of course not. The Puckster was raised by the best dessert chef in all of Southern Ohio, and my mom taught me everything she knows. Everyone in the school is gonna be racing to get one now.”

Mercedes and Artie exchange glances. This has been a day full of surprises, so Mercedes supposes this isn’t too absurd. Still, it’s nice to know the same jock who was trying to peddle singing PEDS not three weeks ago is willing to play it straight every once in a while. 

Artie apparently feels the same way. “Well, I must say I’m impressed. And I’m sorry for making assumptions. I know better than that.”

Puck brushes the apology aside. “No worries, man. I mean, it’s not like I’m above using drugs for a good cause. I just didn’t need them this time.” He looks down at his shoes. “And I just hope I can make up for, you know. Being a jerk all these years.”

Artie studies him for a moment. “You’ve got a ways to go.”

“I know.” 

“But it’s a good start.” She swipes a brownie from the tray and takes a bite. “And these really are that good.” 

Later, when Mercedes is counting the money that just doesn’t seem to end, she realizes that her best friend was right once again.

This is a good start.

***

_“I’d sooner buy defying gravity.  
Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity.  
I think I’ll try defying gravity  
And you won’t bring me down  
Bring me down!” _

“YES!”

Kurt actually jumps into the air, pumping his fist like he’s one of his football teammates after scoring a touchdown, which he knows is a bit much, but he’s too euphoric to care. 

He nailed it. He nailed the high F. And the rest of the song didn’t sound half bad either. 

Of course, he knows it still might not be enough. He’s never had the chance to go head-to-head with Rachel before, but he’s sung with her enough, even if they’ve mostly been basic pop songs, to know that if she brings her best there’s probably nothing he can do to stop her from taking the solo. He thinks back to her initial audition, of how she delivered _On My Own_ like someone who had actually played Eponine on a Broadway stage, and involuntarily shudders. Yeah, it’s gonna be an uphill battle. 

But he’s not doing this to win, not really. He’s doing this for himself, even if it took a pep talk from Finn Hudson for him to actually go for it. And it’s one thing to know he can hit all the notes in theory, but it can’t compare to the rush of finishing a song and knowing that he didn’t miss a single one. 

“Thanks, Brad.” He nods to the piano player who was the only other soul in an otherwise empty auditorium, slings his bag over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

He isn’t surprised when he runs right into Rachel Berry. 

“Rachel!” He reaches out to grab her shoulders, because the girl actually almost falls over - _and the jocks say I have no coordination,_ Kurt thinks - and when he steadies her something’s off in her face. “Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Her eyes widen even further, which doesn’t seem possible. “What? Oh no, no, I’m fine. I’m just really excited for our diva-off, that’s all.” 

“I can see that.” Her breath is short and she’s speaking way too quickly. “But maybe ease up on the caffeine? I wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack before I have the chance to beat you.” 

She lets out a nervous, clipped laugh. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your shot.” She glances toward the stage. “You sounded great, by the way.” 

“I’d be flattered if you didn’t just say that like you’re in mourning.” Kurt shakes his head. “What is going on with you?” 

“Nothing is wrong, I just need to rehearse. See you tomorrow, Kurt.” With that, she brushes past him and heads for the stage without looking back. 

Kurt spends a frustrating amount of the drive home trying to decipher the exchange, even if he knows that trying to interpret Rachel Berry’s actions on any given day makes astrology look like a lab science. He knows he sounded good, but Rachel has no reason to be intimidated by that. With her voice, she’s playing with house money. 

He manages to put it out of his mind as he does as many vocal exercises as he can in his room within the range of his dad’s patience, and by the time he’s getting ready for bed he’s feeling as good as he has all week. He knows he won’t mess up, and if for whatever reason he catches Rachel on a bad day, he might just be able to win this. 

When he goes upstairs for a glass of warm milk, he can immediately sense something’s wrong. His dad is standing in the kitchen with the kind of pain in his expression that Kurt has seen all too often since he came out. 

He does his best to swallow his nervousness. “Dad? What’s wrong?” 

“Hey, Kurt.” He rubs his forehead, which is never a good sign. “I was wondering if there’s anything in particular you’ve been practicing in those after-school rehearsals you’ve been having all week?” 

“Yes, actually, there is,” Kurt says carefully. “The solo for Sectionals is going to be _Defying Gravity,_ and well, you know how I feel about _Wicked,_ so I convinced Mr. Schuester to let me try out for the lead.” 

“You convinced him?”

“Finn helped.” 

“Huh.” He pulls out a chair and sits down. “I’m… really proud of you, Kurt.” 

“Thanks, Dad, but why do I get the feeling that this actually isn’t okay?” 

His dad lets out a heavy sigh. “Look, I just… I got a pretty jarring phone call today. Total stranger, hung up immediately.” 

“Dad? What did they say?” 

He knows the second his dad starts crying. 

“He called you… that bastard, he called my son- ” he trails off with a sob of utter despair. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Kurt makes it to his dad’s side in two strides and throws an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t have to say it. But I’m used to it, trust me.”

“Yeah, but I’m not.” His dad grips his hand, his eyes streaked with tears but steeled with anger. “And the fact that you are makes this worse, not better.” 

“I know.” Kurt rubs his thumb in small circles across his dad’s calloused mechanic’s hands, the same way his dad used to do for him when he was little. “They must have overheard me and put two and two together. It’s not exactly a song you can practice quietly.”

His dad looks up at him. “I know you think this Broadway dream of yours is your ticket out of this place. And god, Kurt, I want you to be right so much it hurts. But if this is putting you in danger, right now, day after day, I just, I don’t know how much more worrying I could take.” 

Kurt’s heart drops into free-fall, because he hadn’t thought of this. He got so caught up in the thrill of snatching the spotlight away from Rachel Berry that he never considered the cost, not just to him but to the person he loves more than anything in this world. 

His dad keeps going. “You do what you have to do, okay? You go in there and you blow that Berry girl out of the water if you have to. I can take whatever comes afterwards, I can take it for both of us, and if anyone tries to hurt you for being who you are, just point me in the right direction and I’ll make sure they’re never a problem for you again. You take care of yourself, and don’t worry about me. Nobody pushes the Hummels around.” 

Kurt doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything, so he throws his arms around his dad and holds him as tight as he can, trying to convey all at once how much he loves him, how grateful he is for his dad being willing to put himself in the line of fire, and how there's no way he can let that happen.

***

Rachel hasn’t been this nervous since she first stood on the football field, trying to get Quinn Fabray to join the Glee Club.

Of course, she’s never gone into a song with the knowledge that someone else in the room might be able to sing it better than she can.

The moment she heard Kurt hit the perfect high F in the auditorium the night before, she went into a full blown panic. After the least productive rehearsal of her life, she was finally forced to swallow her pride and call Mercedes to request an emergency coaching session. 

“Am I hearing this right? Rachel Berry, the world’s most arrogant aspiring diva, is asking one of her backup singers for help?” had been Mercedes’s sardonic reply. 

“Yes. Please. I know I don’t always show it, but I do know you’re talented, Mercedes, and you’re the only one who can help me fix this. I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Meet me in the parking lot in 10.” 

What followed was perhaps the oddest illicit night-time transaction the parking lot of McKinley High School had ever seen, but by the time it was over Rachel was ready. Unpleasantly humbled, yes, and dreading the repayment of the debt that she knew Mercedes wouldn’t wait long to extract, but ready nonetheless. The girl really was an amazing coach, and Rachel was nothing if not a fast learner, and so she walked into school this morning with her high F fully operational, just in the nick of time.

Still, this is the first time she’s ever had to resort to an eleventh hour fix like that. She’s almost certain her voice won’t fail her now, but the beauty and power she heard out of Kurt’s supposedly limited countertenor has made all of her assumptions about the way the world works feel significantly less safe.

If they could just get on with the competition she could settle her nerves, but unfortunately for her Mr. Schuester has other business to attend to first. 

“Alright, guys, today’s the big day! But before we get to Rachel vs Kurt for all the marbles, I’ve got a few pieces of good news. First, I want to introduce the tenth and newest member of the McKinley High School New Directions, the one who has officially rubber-stamped our ticket to Sectionals, please welcome Lauren Zizes!” 

The door flies open and in walks the most enormous human being Rachel has ever seen. The girl towers in the frame, holding herself with a presence that makes her look taller than she probably is, and while Rachel would never be so crass as to guess someone’s weight, she can tell there’s a lot of it, and most of it appears to be muscle. 

Lauren Zizes looks them over with a contemptuous stare that would put Cheerios-era Quinn to shame. “Let me make myself clear. Glee is for losers. I’m only here because I need another extra-curricular on my resume and Coach Sylvester rejected my bid to be Fabray’s replacement. And I’m the defending state wrestling champion, so feel free to mess with me if you want your kneecaps broken.” 

“I like this one,” whispers Puck, and Rachel elbows him to shut him up. 

“So glad to have you, Lauren.” Rachel walks forward and extends her hand, immediately regretting it when the girl’s handshake almost shatters her fingers. “And don’t worry, indifference or outright hostility towards the concept of show choir is practically a prerequisite for new recruits.” Her laughter dies quickly when she realizes she isn’t going to impress Lauren with her sense of humor. “Just stand in the back and sway, and you’ll be accepted into your dream college in no time.” Her captain’s duties fulfilled, she scurries back to her seat as quickly as possible. 

“And second,” Mr. Schuester continues as Lauren slides into the empty seat next to Puck, “I’ve confirmed that the money we raised from the bake sale is enough to rent the wheelchair-accessible bus for the remainder of the season. Artie, you’ll not only be riding with us to Sectionals, but Regionals and Nationals as well.” 

Artie glances at Mercedes - those two have been even more inseparable than usual all week - then pushes her chair forward and turns around to face the club. 

“Thanks, Mr. Schue, and thank you to everyone who came together to make this happen. And shoutout to Puckerman for coming through with the world’s best brownies.” Artie pauses to let the burst of applause die down. 

“But I actually won’t be riding with you this time. Because while I’m the only wheelchair user at McKinley right now, I won’t be forever. And this school’s failure to provide accessible education is bone-deep. So instead of using this money on me for one year, I’m going to use it to finance a ramp into the auditorium that everyone who comes after can use every single day.” 

Her words are drowned out by an even louder round of cheering, which Rachel wholeheartedly joins in, because this is pretty inspiring. Even if she’s slightly disappointed that she won’t get to make her dads instigate a lawsuit, which she’s always wanted to do. 

“That’s super noble of you, Artie, but the real reason you’ll spend it on a ramp is because Coach Sylvester already bought us the bus.”

Brittany doesn’t say it particularly loudly, but the words are so jarring that the club instantly falls silent.

“I'm sorry, what?” It seems like it has to be a Brittany-ism, but Rachel can’t think of why even Brittany would come up with something like that. “Why would she do that?”

Brittany shrugs. “The check was on her desk. I snuck in to try to steal her bullhorn so I could teach Lord Tubbington my cheer routines, but all I found was that and an audition sheet with all the names crossed out except Becky Jackson.” 

Santana starts. “Wait, isn’t that the girl with Down Syndrome? Since when is Coach Sylvester in the business of giving Cheerios roster spots to people who don’t look like a Republican Congressman’s favorite anime character?” 

The disbelief on Artie’s face slowly melts into a grin. “It appears even the most monstrous among us can get in touch with their own humanity sometimes. Isn’t that right Puckerman?” 

Puck shrugs sheepishly. “Sure, I guess.” 

“Wow. I never thought Sue had something like that in her.” Mr. Schuester looks more stunned than anyone, but after a moment he shakes it off. “I’m really proud of you, Artie, and you really deserve this break.”

Artie shakes her head. “It’s not a question of deserving, but thanks.”

“I’ve been thinking. I want to feature you in a number at Sectionals - no, not a hip hop number,” he amends as Artie’s expression goes from hope to bitter disappointment, “But something that shows off how essential your vocals have been to all the group numbers we’ve worked on so far.”

“Only if Mercedes gets to sing it with me.” 

“That’s actually exactly what I was thinking. How do you feel about _Proud Mary?_ And to celebrate your disability activism, I was thinking we could have every member of the New Directions do the choreography in wheelchairs, so that - Artie? Are you okay?”

The girl’s face is buried in her hands, and her shoulders are heaving. With apparent difficulty, she looks up with tears in her eyes, struggling to contain her laughter. 

“Mr. Schue. Leaving aside how putting a bunch of able-bodied kids in wheelchairs for three minutes is not the display of solidarity you think it is… do you know how much these wheels cost? If we had the budget for a stunt like that, we could fly me to Sectionals on a private helicopter.” 

Mr. Schuester drops his marker. “Oh.” 

“But yes, I will gladly sing _Proud Mary_ with Mercedes as our prelude to _Don’t Stop Believin’._ But right now we need to focus on deciding who gets to sing this opener.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Mr. Schuester picks up the marker, uncaps it, and writes ‘Diva-Off’ on the white board. “Rachel, you’re up first. Ready?”

Rachel takes as deep a breath as she can manage with her heart racing as fast as it is. She isn’t ready at all, but she’s out of time. “Absolutely.” She gets to her spot and turns to Brad. “Take it away.” 

She planned to focus on Mercedes’s advice, but as she steps into the song she finds her vision narrowing until the only thing she sees is Kurt, dressed unusually professionally in black jeans and a black-and-blue striped sweater, and looking frustratingly stoic.

_“Something has changed within me.  
Something is not the same.  
I’m through with playing by  
The rules of someone else’s game.”_

She knows he can beat her. Which is exactly why she won’t let him. She finishes the first verse with a perfectly soft flourish and launches into the first chorus.

_“It’s time to try defying gravity.  
I think I’ll try defying gravity.  
Kiss me goodbye; I’m defying gravity  
And you won’t bring me down.”_

She’s been working for this her whole life. And Kurt may be able to catch up with her eventually, but it’s not going to be today.

_“I’m through accepting limits  
Cause someone says they’re so.”_

She’s vaguely aware of the rest of the club swaying along to the song, but her eyes stay fixed on Kurt, who meets her gaze and doesn’t move a muscle.

_“Too long I’ve been afraid of,”_

Until now. His lips curl ever so slightly into the faintest hint of a smile, which Rachel can’t help but return as she prepares to launch into the home stretch.

_“Well if that’s love it comes at  
Much too high a cost!”_

As she lifts off into the second chorus, her voice soaring higher and higher with room to spare, she realizes that she hasn’t felt like this since she sang _Don’t Stop Believin’_ with Finn for the first time. She’s never felt like this while singing alone. But then, maybe that’s just it. Maybe she isn’t alone.

The second chorus ends as perfectly as the first, and as she silently accepts the challenge in Kurt’s eyes, she throws everything she has into the finale that will decide it all.

_“I’d sooner buy defying gravity.  
Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity.  
I think I’ll try defying gravity  
And you won’t bring me down  
Bring me down!”_

Her high F lands perfectly, and she knows she’s got it. She knows it’s unnecessary, but she can’t help but throw her voice towards the heavens for one final, triumphant run as Brad’s piano ushers the song to its thunderous conclusion.

The Glee Club gives her a standing ovation, and on any other day she would have been reveling in the fact that Quinn joins in, but right now there’s only one other person in the room as far as she’s concerned, and he’s giving her a slight nod of acknowledgement as he steps forward to take her place. 

The platitudes from Mr. Schuester fly by in a blur, and then Brad’s hands are back on the keys and Kurt is beginning his response, the opening lines flowing with a lyric smoothness that gives Rachel instant goosebumps. It’s a bad sign, she knows, but she can’t help but enjoy it.

_“Too late for second-guessing,  
Too late to go back to sleep.  
It’s time to trust my instincts  
Close my eyes and leap.”_

His transition from verse to chorus is downright angelic. Nothing can be decided this early, but the longer it goes on the more Rachel gets accustomed to the idea that maybe losing, just this once, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

_“Somethings I cannot change,  
But till I try I’ll never know.”_

It’s only when she hears the raw emotionality in the second verse that she knows she’s doomed. All the Mercedes-aided vocal training in the world can’t teach that, and for the first time she starts to realize that Kurt has more at stake here than she ever will, and it’s going to make all the difference.

_“Losing love I guess I’ve lost  
Well if that’s love it comes at  
Much too high a cost!”_

Rachel knows she has a few bars before the note that will seal her fate, so she sits back and lets herself get swept away in the momentum of Kurt’s voice, in the way it carries the chorus with equal parts confidence and vulnerability, weaving them together as if they were two sides of a single coin. Never has she been proven so wrong about a performer: right now he _is _Elphaba.__

____

And then, the moment of truth.

_“I’d sooner buy defying gravity  
Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity.”_

The high F is perfect. He’s beaten her, and somehow it feels great. His eyes shine as he prepares to bring it home.

_“I think I’ll try defying gravity,  
And you won’t bring me DOOOooooOOWN!”_

The air rushes out of her like she’s been punched in the gut. Time seems to slow down, as the magic of the performance shatters with a cacophony of silence around the blown note, drowning out the perfunctory final lyric and leaving Rachel feeling like she’s just been dropped from the top of the tallest New York skyscraper and atomized on the pavement below. Mr. Schuester is patting Kurt on the shoulder, the New Directions are giving him subdued but sympathetic applause, her name is being written next to “Defying Gravity - Solo” on the now completed setlist, and all Rachel can do is stare into the liminal space where Kurt’s perfect performance existed just seconds ago, because it doesn’t make sense, none of this makes sense.

She hears herself mutter half-hearted responses as her teammates congratulate her on their way out, but she only fully snaps back to her senses once the room is empty except for her and Kurt. And when she can feel again, what she feels is anger.

“What was that?” 

Kurt actually tries to play coy. “What was what?”

“Why did you throw that note?” 

Kurt sighs, running his hands through his hair. “Rachel, I choked. It happens. You beat me fair and square, so just take the win. Since when has that been hard for you?” 

Rachel shakes her head violently. “I heard you do it perfectly last night. And I heard you today. You seriously expect me to believe that you hit a perfect high F and then choked on ‘bring me down’?” 

Kurt’s face darkens. “Seriously, Rachel. You’ve got your precious spotlight to yourself, now drop it.” 

She knows she should, but she’s actually furious now. “What was the point? You challenge me for the female lead and it turns out you have the chops to back it up - do you know how much that would have meant for this club? How much better it would be for having both of us measuring ourselves against each other? And then you go and throw it all away, to give me a win I didn’t earn? And for what?” 

Kurt gets right in her face. “Oh, I don’t know Rachel, maybe so that my dad doesn’t get phone calls from strangers threatening to kill his son!” 

The picture snaps into horrifying focus, and all of Rachel’s anger disappears as quickly as it arose. “Oh my god Kurt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t think - “ 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to,” Kurt responds, and the bitterness in his voice is a sharp pain in Rachel’s chest. “I know you think cosplaying Broadway stars and challenging people to compare voice boxes is the height of human experience, but some of us have to worry about how we’re going to get ourselves and our loved ones through the day.” He chokes up at the end, and collapses onto the piano bench, his anger fading into a heartbreaking resignation. 

Rachel’s knows she’s done enough damage for one day, but her body moves on its own and suddenly she’s sitting beside him. 

“You’ve been out for a while now, but you’ve never tried to diminish your talent before. What changed?” 

He looks up at her, his eyes flaring back up with anger, but she holds his gaze until the fight eventually leaves them. 

“Before, it was just me. And sure, all the slushies made hair care a special kind of hell, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle, you know? And then I became a football hero for fifteen minutes, and Finn started sticking up for me even when I lost that, because it turns out he’s kind of a great person.”

Rachel smiles, because of course Finn would do that. “Yeah, he is.” 

“And he told me to embrace what I was best at, and not to let you walk away with the Sectionals solo.” He manages a smile of his own, which is a relief to see. “In fact, I believe his exact words were ‘kick Rachel’s ass.’” 

Rachel laughs. “I’ll forgive his sabotage just this once, since it was obviously a great idea.” 

Kurt shakes his head. “I thought so too. I threw myself into practice, and when I realized I wasn’t actually bluffing about the high F, I thought that maybe I was getting somewhere. But you can’t be out and safe at this school unless you minimize yourself, and when rumors spread, my dad got the call.” 

“He didn’t ask you to throw the competition, did he?” 

“That’s the thing, Rachel. He told me to give it my all, that he’d put up with all the abuse and put himself in the crosshairs, all so that I could chase this pipe dream of becoming a star and escaping this place. And when I saw how heartbroken he was… I just couldn’t put him through that.” 

He’s staring into the middle distance with a look of such profound sadness on his face, and once again Rachel finds herself moving without thinking as she reaches out to take his hand. He looks down in surprise, and Rachel waits for him to pull away, but he never does. 

“You were really brave, Kurt. Braver than I could have been.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that. When you need to be, you might surprise yourself.” 

She puts the encouragement aside, because she’s not really sure what it means, and continues. “I’m not saying I completely understand it. But I do know that I’m done underestimating you. Solo or no solo, we’re going to win Nationals because we have you.” 

When she squeezes his hand, he squeezes back, and she wonders if this isn’t the start of something new. 

“Just do me a favor. When you take the stage for Sectionals, knock _Defying Gravity_ out of the park for me, will you?”

Rachel shakes her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Wait. What? Why not?” 

“Because I’m not performing _Defying Gravity _at Sectionals,” she explains. “Your performance would win going away, but mine… not so much. It’s not my best song, and I’ll need my best to make sure we win.”__

____

____

Kurt isn’t buying it. “Rachel, we can’t have just gone through all that and then have neither of us perform it.” 

“You’re absolutely right.” Rachel reaches into her bag and pulls out the stash of blank sheet music she’s carried with her everywhere since she was old enough to write. “Do you have a pen?” 

All of the day’s fraught emotions are replaced on Kurt’s face by utter confusion. “I think so - what is all this for?” 

“For arranging, of course.” She frowns. “No, you know what, you’re right, it’s too overdetermined. The only way to make this shine is to find it in the performance.”

“Find what exactly?” 

She stares at him for a moment, because he can’t seriously not understand where she’s going with this. _“Defying Gravity._ Our duet.” 

He laughs. “Rachel, I appreciate it, but I told you, I can’t risk it.” 

“Not for them. For us.” She stands and holds out her hand. “Right now, in this empty choir room.” 

His eyes soften, and she knows she’s won him over. He takes her hand and follows her to the center of the room. 

But before they start, there’s a promise she has to make. 

“One day.” She tells him. “Maybe not this year, but when the time is right, we’ll perform this, together, in front of thousands of people. And we’ll know we’ve made it. Deal?”

He looks at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time, and then he nods. “Deal.” 

“Ready?”

“Wait, Brad’s gone home. We don’t have a piano.” 

“We don’t need one.” 

Kurt smiles. “All right then. Ready.” 

And with that, they turn together to face an audience of no one.

_“Something has changed within me  
Something is not the same… ”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Yes, they were weed brownies in canon.
> 
> Canonically, Lauren doesn't join the club until season 2. We weren't interested in moving her to the 2nd Generation though, and we needed another member for Sectionals, so she gets to stay. At least for a little bit.
> 
> It took us way too long to decide which word actually contained the high F in the episode, since there are multiple high Fs in the song. We eventually settled on the last 'Goodbye' since that was the note that (fun fact) Lea Michele had trouble reaching in real life. You wouldn't be able to tell in the season 1 version of Defying Gravity since they lowered the note but you can definitely tell that it was 'Goodbye' in the season 5 version. We could talk about this for hours but we'll spare you here.
> 
> Next chapter we go from one of our favorite season 1 episodes to one of our least favorites.


	10. Ballad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Will finally got a setlist together for Sectionals but first he had to decide who was going to get a solo. Rachel was a shoo-in but then Kurt challenged her for a spot and she won. Puck’s starting to work on cleaning up his act, which involved raising money for Artie to go to Sectionals with the rest of the club, because he wants to show Quinn that he can be a good father. Speaking of fathers, Quinn’s still doesn’t know about her pregnancy and it’s getting really hard for her to hide it.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of the worst episodes of season 1. We rewrote most of it. Feel free to look up what actually happens in the episode to see exactly why we rewrote most of it.
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Lauren Zizes is bored out of her mind. Why does she even bother trying? The one with the butt-chin is writing something on the board. It probably didn’t matter. Lauren will just go up front and sing whatever she wants when she’s called on. It doesn’t matter what the assignment is; Lauren’s talent exceeds the petty limits that are genres.

The annoying Jewish girl is saying something about writing letters to the Ohio Show Choir Committee, whatever that is, and Lauren really can’t take it anymore.

“Can we get on with whatever this is so I can show off my talent, because sitting here listening to whatever Miss Showtunes has to say is a real waste of my time.”

“Okay… my idea for this week was to pair you off to sing ballads with each other,” says butt-chin, looking a little offended. The Jewish one is shooting Lauren a nasty look, not the black Jewish one, the chick. “I put all your names in a hat. Whoever’s name you pull out is your partner.”

Butt-chin passes around a crusty old top hat that Lauren can’t even imagine putting her hand in. Who knows what kind of bacteria live in that curly monstrosity he passes off as hair?

The black Jewish one is up first. He draws the black not-Jewish one’s name. Some car name or something? Lauren is only partially paying attention. The nerdy blonde picks the popular blonde. The jock gets the gay. The ditzy cheerleader pulls out Lauren’s name. She turns around to give Lauren a small smile and a wave which Lauren sarcastically returns. This’ll be fun.

“Um… Mr. Schue. I can’t work with Rachel,” says the bitchy cheerleader.

“Why not, Santana?” asks butt-chin.

“Religious reasons,” Santana replies sweetly, “My abuela is Catholic.”

“Santana, I will quit Glee Club right now if you can name a single book from the Old Testament,” interjects Rachel. Finally, something interesting is happening in this club.

“I said we’re Catholic. That means we don’t actually read the Bible, you blasphemer.”

“Does that deal apply to me?” asks the blonde cheerleader sitting next to the jock.

“No, it does not, let’s just get on with rehearsal,” snaps Rachel. Sad. Things were just getting interesting.

***

Quinn is sucking in as much as she can but this really can’t be good for her or the baby. She tries using her hands to push in her stomach, but her mother still can’t get the zipper up the back of her dress.

“That’s odd. We just had this tailored a month ago. It fit you perfectly then, but I guess we can just get it taken out an inch or so,” her mother notes, patting Quinn’s stomach.

Quinn doesn’t even know how to begin to respond to that. She knows her mother knows. She must know. When is she finally going to break this stalemate?

“Are you sure you've been getting enough exercise ever since you quit the Cheerios, sweetie? I mean how many calories can you possibly be burning sitting on a stool and humming in the background?”

Quinn is saved from having to respond to that by her dad arriving home from work. “Oh Quinn! You look so beautiful! We’re going to be the talk of the Chastity Ball with you looking like that on my arm.” He starts to tear up a little, looking at her with so much pride in his eyes and Quinn can’t bear it. “I’m sorry,” he laughs, “it’s just, my little girl is a grown woman now.”

“Oh, Daddy, it’s not like I’m getting married or anything.”

“Oh, but it’s not too far off is it? How’s that Finn boy doing? He’s been a perfect gentleman, yes?”

“Of course, Daddy. Finn has been perfect, as always.”

“Great, because I’m inviting him to dinner this Thursday.” Great. That sounds like an awesome way to spend an evening, running around trying to keep her boyfriend from saying something stupid.

Thankfully, timing really is on Quinn’s side today, because the doorbell rings before she has a chance to properly respond. “Oh! I forgot to tell you, I invited a friend over to work on a school project. I hope that’s alright.”

“Sure, sweetie. Why don’t you go get changed? I’ll pour some refreshments for you and your friend,” says her mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek before running into the hallway.

By the time Quinn gets back downstairs, there’s no one in the living room. Strange. Where is everyone?

“Quinn, we’re outside! Come greet your guest.”

Quinn goes out to the front step to see her dad chatting with Artie while her mom stands with a huge smile plastered across her face, a tray with a pitcher of iced tea clutched in her hands.

“Quinn,” hisses her mother, darting a glance over to Artie to make sure she’s still occupied with explaining the merits of some new action movie to her dad, “It seems you forgot to mention to your guest that our house has a step leading up to it.”

Quinn flushes, partially from embarrassment, and partially from the bitter wind whipping around them. It’s not even November yet, but fall in Ohio can be pretty unforgiving.

“Why don’t you go grab a coat? Your father will move the car so you two can at least sit in the garage.”

Quinn rushes back inside and grabs some blankets before heading out the side door into the garage.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry about this,” she gushes, handing Artie a blanket and pulling up a chair.

“It’s fine. This actually makes my life easier because now you feel guilty, which means you’re more likely to accept my proposition,” says Artie, inching forward and waggling her eyebrows.

“Um… ” is all Quinn manages to get out before her mother bustles through the door.

“I brought hot chocolate,” she sings, handing them each a steaming mug. They each mutter their thanks and politely decline offers of snacks or other refreshments and quietly wait for her to leave.

“So… what was your proposition?” asks Quinn cautiously.

“So, I found a list of Christian rap songs… ”

***

_“I'll stand by you, I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you  
I'll stand by you”_

It feels a little weird, sitting alone in his bedroom, singing to a sonogram video on his laptop screen, but he’s here, trying his best to follow Kurt’s advice from earlier. He said it wasn’t a good idea to keep all of his emotions bottled up inside, so he’s going to try singing his feelings from now on. Mr. Schue did say that was the point of ballads, after all.

_“Take me in, into your darkest hour  
And I'll never desert you  
I'll stand by you”_

“Finn?”

Finn starts and turns around. His mother is standing in his open doorway, holding a basket of his laundry. Why hadn’t he thought to close his door?

“Mom!”

“What are you doing?” she asks, dropping the basket and coming to sit next to him on the bed.

“Uh, nothing,” he says, finally thinking to shut his laptop.

“Why are you singing to a sonogram? What’s going on?” Finn opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. “Is Quinn pregnant?”

All he can manage is a nod and then he’s sobbing into his mom’s shirt. She’s holding him against her as he shakes and apologizes over and over again. “It’s going to be okay,” she says, shushing him as she runs her fingers through his hair.

Quinn is less comforting, the next day, when she finds out what he’s done. She’s really angry, but he just doesn’t see what the big deal is. The whole school already knows. She eventually has to run to catch her bus, but she tells him she wants to talk about this more after dinner on Thursday, so hopefully things will get cleared up then.

“Hey, Finn! Which bus are we getting on?” asks Kurt, jogging over to him. They had planned to head to Finn’s house this afternoon, partially for rehearsal, and partially because Finn needs help picking out an outfit for dinner on Thursday. Kurt had told him to sing his feelings, and that was exactly what he’s going to do. He wants to make sure he looks nice for a moment this important.

Kurt follows him up the bus steps, and Finn immediately heads towards the back, but when he turns around to make sure Kurt’s still behind him, he’s standing awkwardly by the front. “Aren’t you coming?” he asks. Kurt looks nervous, but nods, and follows him towards the back. “Don’t you usually sit in the back? You’re a football player,” he asks Kurt.

“Yeah, I may be a football player, but I’m still a gay member of a show choir. They kind of cancel each other out. I mean, I can walk through the hallways unbothered because I’m on the football team, but I can’t usually get away with much more than that.”

“Oh. I never thought about it like that.”

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to. You get whatever you want. Always have, always will.” His face changes and his eyes widen as Finn just looks at him. “No, I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have said that.” He looks genuinely guilty, but there was definitely an anger to his words that Finn hadn’t expected from Kurt.

“It’s fine. I get it.” He doesn’t really know what else to say, and apparently neither does Kurt because they spend the rest of the bus ride in silence. When Finn finally nudges Kurt at his stop, it feels like an eternity has passed.

Finn’s house isn’t huge or impressive, but it’s clean, and the basement has a nice rec space, so they head down there, and Finn makes a beeline for a chest of his father’s old things. It’s always easiest to just rip the band-aid off with these kinds of things. “Before we start rehearsing, uh,” he starts, “I know you’re into, like, fashion and stuff,” he says, shooting a pointed look at Kurt’s salmon blouse, “so I was hoping you could help me find something nice to wear to the Fabray dinner. I think I’m gonna take your advice, about the whole feelings thing.”

“Oh, yeah, I can help you with that. What have you got there?”

“It’s, uh, my dad’s old stuff. My mom never could bring herself to throw any of it away after he died, so it’s just been sitting down here, collecting dust. I think it would be nice to wear something of his, you know? I want him to be a part of this in some way.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. What about this?” Kurt kneels next to him, and holds up a simple suit. It’s nothing fancy but it looks nice. Timeless.

“Yeah, I like that a lot. Sorry if it’s weird, asking you to go through a dead man’s stuff.”

“No, I get it,” Kurt almost whispers, his face softening. “My mom died ten years ago, and my dad still keeps all of her old clothes in her dresser. I don’t think he ever even opens it.”

Finn can feel his eyes widening, but he can’t stop himself. He had no idea Kurt’s mom was dead. “I’m so sorry,” is all he can think to say.

Kurt just shakes his head. “You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know. At least I never knew my dad, you know? I don’t really have anything to miss. Maybe that makes me lucky.”

“This is getting too morbid. Let’s focus on something cheerier. Why don’t you try on the suit?”

Finn heads into the bathroom, and when he comes back out, Kurt just stares at him. “Do I look okay?” he asks, self-consciously wrapping his arms around his torso.

“No, you look great. I’m just a little shocked, to be honest. You clean up nicely.” Kurt seems to flinch at that. “I’m not, like, coming onto you or anything. You’re so decidedly not my type, and like, there’s just so many reasons I wouldn’t - I mean - ”

“It's fine, dude. I get it. You’re totally good.”

“Oh. Okay.” Kurt ducks his head, blushing slightly, and Finn isn’t really sure what to say to break the ice.

“So, uh, what is your type?” he asks, half-jokingly.

Kurt snaps his head up at that, giving Finn a weary look. “This isn’t a trap, is it?”

“Uh, no. I just - Look, I know you don’t trust me too much, and that’s honestly deserved, but I want to be your friend, and I don’t know. This is what guys talk about, and you said I wasn’t your type, so. Like, who is?”

“Oh, um, I don’t really know. Definitely someone confident, who knows what they want, and goes for it. Someone who can sing, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Finn laughs, going to sit next to Kurt on the floor, and bumping his shoulder in what he hopes is a friendly gesture.

“Oh! I love curly hair!”

“Ha! Me too,” says Finn, and Kurt gives him a look that he can’t quite read.

“What about you? What do you like?”

Finn has to think for a moment. “Well, I love Quinn, obviously. But, I don’t know. Dark hair is also nice? I kinda like short hair, too? And, um, ok this is weird, but I really think girls look a lot better in pants than in skirts? Like, skirts are just weird, you know? I know I’m supposed to love them, but I just don’t get the appeal. Also, I don’t know, I guess I just like people I can be good friends with, you know? Someone who’s honest with me. Someone I can trust.”

***

Puck has been so angry these past few weeks. He just wants to tell someone, but he can’t, because it would ruin his relationship with his best friend, who he’s also pissed at because of this stupid secret. And on top of all of this, Mercedes is late to practice. She said she’d meet him right after school in the choir room but it’s been ten minutes and she’s still nowhere to be seen.

When she finally walks through the door, she’s completely absorbed by her phone. She doesn’t even bother to look up and apologize to him. “You’re late,” he snaps.

“Calm down, I was just texting Kurt. He’s really worried about Finn, you know. We all are. How are we supposed to focus on this week’s lesson when all any of us can think about is Babygate?”

“Who cares about that? If Quinn didn’t want to get pregnant, she shouldn’t have been sleeping with anyone.”

Mercedes looks mad enough to clock him, and honestly, he can’t think of a better outcome right now. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but you had better pull yourself together. Your best friend and his girlfriend need you right now and you’re sulking because of what? What’s even your problem?”

“Finn’s not the father! I am.” Puck doesn’t know why he says it. It just explodes out of him, and once it’s out, he feels so relieved that he doesn’t even feel guilty.

Mercedes, on the other hand, looks absolutely appalled. “Ok, look. You need to get this through your thick skull right now, because I’m not going to repeat myself. It doesn’t matter who the father is, because Quinn’s not keeping that baby, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. You’ve already ruined that poor girl’s life. Do us all a favor and try not to make it any worse, understand?”

Puck nods reluctantly. As much as he hates to admit it, she has a point. There’s nothing he can do at this point.

“Good, because I found a nice ballad for us to sing, and I want to focus on that as much as possible before Friday.”

***

Finn’s so nervous he can barely eat, but he does his best to keep a polite smile on his face, and complements the food appropriately. Quinn’s parents are chattering idly, but Finn can’t hear it over the thumping of his heart. “Excuse me. I have to use the restroom,” he says, shooting out of his chair fast enough to almost knock it over. He grabs a hand to steady it before bolting down the hallway.

“What does a heart attack feel like?” he asks Kurt the second the line connects.

“Calm down. Aren’t you at dinner?”

“Yeah, I just couldn’t breathe.”

“Remember what we talked about. You can’t keep all of your emotions bottled up inside.”

Finn starts pacing. “Yeah, I know, but are you sure this is a good idea? What if everything goes sideways?”

“Am I sure if what’s a good idea? What are you doing?”

“Um, exactly what you told me. I’m going to sing the truth. Hold on, I gotta go. They might think I’m pooping. I’ll call you later.” He hears Kurt start to say something, but he’s already hung up. It’s now or never. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the dining room.

On his way, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and queues up the instrumentals he downloaded earlier. As he approaches his seat he sets down the phone and looks everyone at the table in the eye. “I, uh, have something I prepared for you all, if that’s alright.” He doesn’t wait for a response before pressing play. Tinny guitar fills the room and he begins singing:

_“Having my baby  
What a lovely way of saying  
How much you love me”_

Quinn has a hand pressed over her mouth in surprise. Judy and Russell are just staring, matching expressions of confusion painted across their faces.

_“Having my baby  
What a lovely way of saying  
What you're thinking of me”_

Quinn’s hand slowly sinks from her mouth, but her eyes stay glued on Finn, wider than he’s ever seen them. Neither Judy nor Russell have moved. Finn suddenly realizes he’s made a grave mistake. Quinn is horrified. Her parents’ looks of confusion are slowly turning to anger. He doesn’t know what to do so he just keeps going.

_“I can see it  
Face is glowing  
I can see in your eyes  
I'm happy you know it”_

He keeps his eyes trained on Quinn’s, looking for some sign of what to do, and he doesn’t even notice when Russell stands up and grabs his phone off of the table, snapping it shut with a decisive click that cuts the music off. He throws the phone back onto the table with a clatter, and just glares at Finn for several seconds.

“I need you both to leave.”

“Daddy?” asks Quinn, finally tearing her eyes away from Finn to stare at her father instead.

“Both of you.”

“Please, Daddy, can we at least talk about this?” Quinn has tears in her eyes but her father just looks at her in disgust before turning away completely.

“Mrs. Fabray, do something, please,” begs Finn.

“Don’t bother Finn. She’s known this whole time, and she hasn’t done a thing,” says Quinn. She’s really crying now, but she keeps going, rounding on her mother. “I needed a mom, and you weren’t there for me. You were too afraid, so you just ignored it. I needed you!”

“Don’t you dare blame your mother for this! If she had known, she would have told me, because she is a good, honest, Christian woman,” Mr. Fabray seethes, “You, on the other hand, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“I’m your daughter who loves you. I made a mistake, but I’m still me. Please. Daddy.”

“I want you out now. Don’t let me see you again.” He turns and stalks out of the room and Quinn collapses against the table. Finn has no idea what to do, so he lets Mrs. Fabray takes the lead.

“You take her outside and wait just one minute. I’ll pack a bag.”

He doesn’t know what else to do but that, and once he has Quinn’s school bag slung across one shoulder and her clothes in a duffel on his other, he begins the short walk home, doing his best to support her as she leans against him. He knows she’s furious, but she doesn’t have anywhere else to go, and this is the only way he knows to try to make it right.

***

Rachel stares at herself in the bathroom mirror, trying to fix her hair a little before her performance with Santana. They haven’t exactly rehearsed, per say, but Santana did pick out a song for them to sing, and while it certainly couldn’t be considered a ballad, Rachel is confident it’ll sound so good that Mr. Schue won’t even notice. At least, she’ll sound good.

“Hey, Barbra Streisand, we need to talk,”

“What do you want Santana?” asks Rachel, spinning to face the girl that just came in the door.

“We’re up first. Get your butt to the rehearsal room so I can show everyone what a mediocre singer you really are compared to me.”

“In your dreams,” responds Rachel. “I honestly don’t know why you even care.. You know I’m better than you. No need to get so insecure about it.”

“I care because you’ve been acting like an entitled little brat for as long as I’ve known you, and if Hummel’s not going to put you in your place, someone needs to. Honestly, this little showcase, or whatever, doesn’t matter at all to me, but watching you run home crying when you realize how very not special you are will be fun.”

Rachel scoffs. “What, you think you’re the one who’s going to beat me? You wish you had as much talent in your entire body as I have in my little finger, but maybe you will. We’ll see. Just know that when we perform, not even Brittany is going to think you’re even close to as talented as me.”

Santana raises a hand and snarls. “Listen here you little - ”

“Excuse me,” pipes up a voice from inside one of the stalls. “If you two are going to fight, can I please wash my hands first. I don’t want to be late to class.”

A short girl with frizzy hair and a pinched face makes her way out of the stalls and heads quickly to the sinks without looking at either of them. Rachel thinks her name might be Suzy? She’s gone in seconds, and Santana and Rachel practically race to the choir room on her heels.

“Hit it, Brad,” they both say simultaneously as they walk through the doorway.

_“I see ya blowin' me a kiss  
It doesn't take a scientist  
To understand what's going on, baby  
If you see something in my eye  
Let's not over analyze  
Don't go too deep with it, baby”_

Rachel starts off strong, but Santana is right up next to her, completely oversinging the next verse to try to one-up Rachel. Two can play at that game. If Santana wants to turn this into a competition of who can belt the loudest, she is in for a world of disappointment.

_So let it be what it'll be  
Don't make a fuss and get crazy over you and me  
Here's what I'll do  
I'll play loose  
Not like we have a date with destiny_

Rachel lets the emotion of the song completely take her over, and channels her emotion into the most powerful belts she can manage. She tries her best to keep her eyes away from Finn, but by the end, she notices she’s been staring at him for at least half of the song. At least Quinn is distracted enough to not have noticed. Not that it matters; he’s clearly doing his best to look at anything in the room but her.

_“It's just a little crush  
Not like I faint every time we touch  
It's just some little thing  
Not like everything I do  
Depends on you”_

The song ends and Brittany jumps to her feet, applauding wildly. She and Santana have been staring at each other the whole time. Weird. The rest of the club is stunned into a shocked if not quite as enthusiastic applause.

“Well,” begins Mr. Schuester, rising to his feet. “I’m not sure I would consider that a ballad, but I’m glad you two were able to work something out. Good job, ladies.”

***

Quinn really didn’t want to come to school today, but she can’t let anything jeopardize her perfect attendance record. Still, she’s surprised she was able to drag herself to Glee Club. Rachel was right. This club has shown time and time again that they have her back, and she honestly wants to be with them right now. After this, she thinks she’ll need a break, but at the moment, what she needs most is the distraction.

She has to admit, whatever that cat fight between Rachel and Santana was, it was pretty entertaining. Lauren and Brittany get up and do something with completely indecipherable lyrics that Quinn would normally say must have been a Brittany pick, but Lauren is such a wild card that it could easily have been her pick either.

Quinn still can’t believe Artie talked her into a rap song about the virtues of… virtuosity. Their duet is a complete disaster, obviously, and Mr. Schuester gives them a whole lecture about how the assignment was to do a ballad, but, honestly, it’s really fun, and for a moment, she almost forgets all of the ways in which her life ended yesterday.

“Does anyone actually have a ballad they want to perform?” Mr. Schuester asks, desperately.

Mercedes, raises her hand. “Puck and I have actually prepared a ballad, yes.”

Their performance of Endless Love is stunningly touching and romantic. They actually have great stage chemistry, and maybe even some off-stage chemistry the more Quinn thinks about it.

“I didn’t know you two were together,” someone says, vocalizing Quinn’s thoughts.

“Oh, hell to the no; I am not dating Puckerman. What on this Earth makes you think that?”

“Well, you did just do a love song together. I know I would have fallen in love by the end of the first rehearsal.”

“Rachel, if you can fall in love with someone over the course of a single song, you need a lot more help than I can give you.”

“Okay, everyone. If you’re done with whatever this is,” says Kurt with a clap as he stands and takes his place by the piano, “Finn and I have also prepared a ballad that we’d like to perform.”

Finn gets up to take his place at the front and the opening chords filter through the air.

_“Sometimes in our lives we all have pain  
We all have sorrow  
But if we are wise  
We know that there's always tomorrow”_

Quinn doesn’t even try to control the sob that rises in her as Mercedes gets up and beckons the rest of the room up to the front, and they all join in for the chorus. Artie takes her hand and leads her up with them and she manages to get control of herself enough to join in with them. This is twice now that the Glee Club has lifted her out of her lowest moment, and she doesn’t know how she can ever express just how much that means to her.

_“Lean on me, when you're not strong  
And I'll be your friend  
I'll help you carry on  
For it won't be long  
'Til I'm gonna need  
Somebody to lean on”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: way too many to list here.
> 
> The next chapter (Hairography) will also be heavily rewritten. Since it'll published around Valentine's Day, expect both sweethearts and broken-hearts.


	11. Hairography

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Quinn’s parents finally found out that Quinn’s pregnant and they kicked her out of the house, so now Quinn lives with Finn. Puck told Mercedes that he’s actually the father of Quinn’s child and Mercedes swore that she won’t tell anyone. Meanwhile, Rachel keeps thinking about how Kurt choked in their diva-off on purpose and now she’s worried she’s falling behind.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After rewatching this episode, it really should have been called Distractions.
> 
> Happy late Valentine’s Day everyone! Each ship gets a little love in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

Quinn’s not at rehearsal. That’s the first thing Mercedes notices when she walks into the choir room. 

Finn’s at his drum set, absentmindedly tapping on one of the cymbals with a drumstick. He looks up at Mercedes as she walks by and gives her a tired smile before going right back to staring into space. At least he’s still here, even if he just spends rehearsals fading into the chorus nowadays.

Mercedes will admit she never liked Quinn Fabray. She’s the picture-perfect poster child of white suburban culture and Mercedes swears she’s only friends with Santana and Brittany as a part of her martyr complex. She stands aside as her boyfriend’s teammates physically harass one of her best friends and pretend that her other isn’t even human. No, Mercedes does not like Quinn Fabray, and it will take a lot to change that.

But even she can’t help but feel bad for her. Puck may have a reputation for being slick but it’s obvious that he’s been avoiding Mercedes ever since he told her the truth.

She hasn’t told anyone and she won’t anytime soon. At least not until Quinn says something first.

Artie waves to her as if Mercedes’ eyes didn’t automatically go to her as soon as her thoughts cleared. Though, now that she’s really looking, the choir room is emptier than usual. She does a quick headcount. Seven. Lauren and Brittany aren’t here, either.

Sure enough, there are exactly four empty chairs. One by Santana, two by Kurt and Rachel - who’ve been uncharacteristically quiet lately - and one by Artie. As Mercedes takes that last chair, Puck hops up the risers to greet Santana.

“Don’t even try it,” Santana says when he gets closer. Her bag is resting on the empty seat next to her, which is closer to her than usual.

Puck throws his hands up in defense. “Chill. I just wanted to sit down.”

“Then you can go sit down next to Lumps over there,” Santana says, her voice cold. “I’m sure he’d appreciate the company.”

“Alright guys,” Mr. Schue says as Puck pulls one of the empty chairs by Rachel up next to Finn. “I finally got the list of the schools we’ll be competing against at Sectionals. Finn, drum roll please?”

Finn taps on one of the drums for a few seconds. It’s half-hearted but apparently still passes Mr. Schue’s quality test.

“Jane Addams Academy and Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow.”

“Isn’t Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow the school with all the lesbians?” Mercedes asks.

Artie shakes her head. “You mixed them up. Jane Addams has the lesbians. Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow is Catholic.”

Mr. Schue claps his hands together. “Both schools have incredible show choirs. McKinley faced Jane Addams Academy at Regionals during one of my seasons and we got destroyed. Those girls are a force to be reckoned with. But I know that if we practice enough, we’ll come out on top. We have a phenomenal setlist and with Rachel leading us, Sectionals will be ours before those girls can even get on stage. Places everyone!”

“Wait! Mr. Schue, I need to say something,” Rachel says.

When she’s given the go-ahead, Rachel pulls her chair out and steps up onto it. She brushes the hair out of her eyes and clears her throat. “I’ve chosen not to sing _Defying Gravity_ at Sectionals.”

The room goes quiet.

“I’m sorry?” Santana asks. ”You realize we voted for you, right?”

“Both Kurt and I have decided that _Defying Gravity,_ while a spectacular song that we hope to do someday in the future, is not a good choice for this setlist,” Rachel responds. She misses how Santana’s hands ball into fists but the rest of them don’t.

“We wasted an entire week on your and Lady Hummel’s stupid Broadway sing-off.” Santana stands. Mercedes and Puck share a look from across the room. “I don’t care if it’s you or him prancing around on stage, one of you better sing it.”

“Are you threatening me Santana?” Rachel carefully dismounts and smooths out the wrinkles in her skirt. “I understand that you might be upset, seeing as how my voice is the driving force behind this club- “

Santana slips her chastity ring off. “Alright, let me at her!”

Mercedes gets up but Puck reaches Santana first. She tries to push Puck out of the way, letting out a yelp when he grabs her by the waist and pushes her back down into her seat.

“Enough,” Mr. Schue says, actually sounding authoritative for once. Santana smacks Puck’s hands off her, bristling but ultimately choosing to stay in her seat. “Santana, that was highly inappropriate. I’m disappointed in you.” He addresses Rachel again, “Rachel, are you sure? I’m assuming Kurt would rather not sing it too, based on what you said. Sectionals are in two weeks, we can’t afford to waste any more time.”

“That’s okay! I actually have a list of possible replacements. They’re in my bag, hold on a moment… “ Rachel says, holding up a finger with one hand and rummaging through her bag with the other.

Mercedes speaks up. “How about _And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going?”_

Mr. Schue smiles. “That’s an excellent choice Mercedes. What do you say Rachel?”

“Oh no, I’m not suggesting Rachel sing it.” 

Mercedes has been waiting for this opportunity ever since Rachel came to her in tears the night before her diva-off with Kurt. She didn’t fool Mercedes, who can spot fake tears from a mile away. Rachel’s a quick study so it didn’t take long for Mercedes to coach her into reaching those high Fs.

Rachel approached her the next morning, thanking Mercedes for her help. Mercedes always knew she had enough talent to match Rachel but damn. She didn’t know she needed that validation so much.

“I want to sing it,” Mercedes says, “For Sectionals.”

“Oh my God- “

“Sit down Santana,” Mr. Schue orders. “Mercedes, we don’t have room on the setlist. And I’m not comfortable with cutting _Proud Mary_ since that song is a collaborative piece.”

“Then don’t,” Artie says. She shoots Mercedes a supportive grin. “It would make more sense for us to cut Rachel’s solo. Plus, none of us even had choreography to go with it.”

Mr. Schue tries to shut down Rachel’s protests before they come out of her mouth but it’s no use. “Mercedes, you already have a lead in Proud Mary. It wouldn’t be fair for the rest of the club if you got the solo too.”

Finn raises a drumstick. “You also have a lead Rachel. _In Don’t Stop Believin’.”_

“Okay fine!” Rachel says, looking more than a little ruffled. “Diva-off. Right here, right now.”

“I’m going to have an aneurysm.”

“Wait until this is over Santana. You can’t vote for me if you’re comatose,” Mercedes says, holding her head up high as she steps down the risers. She’s not letting Rachel go first, she’s learned that lesson from Kurt.

Checking to see if the band is ready - while also making sure Finn knows not to touch his drums during the entirety of the song - Mercedes takes a deep breath.

The reign of Rachel Berry is about to end. It’s time for Mercedes Jones to take the spotlight.

_“And I am telling you, I'm not going  
You're the best man I'll ever know... ”_

_***_

One week ago, Rachel was surprised to see that Santana could keep up with her in a duet.

Two weeks ago, Rachel was frustrated when she found out that the only reason she won the diva-off against Kurt was because he threw that note.

Now, Rachel’s scared, because she realizes that she’s completely underestimated Mercedes.

Mercedes brought the house down, bringing out the emotional weight of the song not only through her voice, but also her stage presence. Afterwards, she looked at Rachel, who had been making sure her anxiety was under wraps, and smiled.

“Mr. Schue,” Rachel says after the applause dies down. Which took a while. “Is it okay if I postpone my audition until Friday afternoon? My throat is feeling a little scratchy and I’m worried I might damage my voice because of it.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier Rachel?” Mr. Schue asks, sounding genuinely concerned. No wonder his wife got away with everything. “I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to Mercedes if I gave you more time, but at the same time I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry about it Mr. Schue. I’m cool with giving Rachel more time.” Mercedes says as she takes a big gulp from her water bottle.

Because then it wouldn’t be a challenge for her. That’s the implicit message. “Thank you for understanding Mercedes.”

Mr. Schue nods. “Alright. We’ll hear Rachel’s audition at Friday’s rehearsal. In the meantime, I want everyone to take a break so Mercedes can rest her voice before we dive into Proud Mary.”

As they all get up to stretch their legs, Rachel works her way down the risers to get to Finn. He smiles at her in greeting. It warms Rachel’s chest.

“You okay?” he asks. How sweet.

“I will be,” she answers. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Things are definitely not as awkward as she thinks they are. Okay, maybe they are. Is she losing her touch? Does Finn know she’s losing her touch? Rachel’s been wanting to spend time with him for so long but she’s kept her distance because of Quinn. She doesn’t even know how to broach the topic without looking desperate. 

“How’s Quinn?”

Finn rubs the back of his neck, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Okay. She didn’t feel like coming to practice today. I didn’t want to leave her alone but my mom is working all the time now. Brittany offered to come over and watch her so I could come to practice.”

Ah, that explains her absence. As Rachel’s trying to organize her thoughts, Artie comes up to them. “Hey guys. What are you doing tomorrow after school?”

“Resting my voice,” Rachel answers carefully.

“Well if you’re free, Santana, Puck, and I are planning on checking out our competition. We’re going to Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow tomorrow.”

Finn shrugs. “Sure.”

Rachel looks at him in surprise. “What about Quinn?”

“I think she needs a break from me. She didn’t seem upset about everything at first but now I think it’s all starting to sink in for her,” he says.

“Sweet. What about you Rach?” 

Rachel shakes her head. She wants to win as much as everyone else does, but she would never stoop to such unsavory practices. Although, it would give her the opportunity to hang out with Finn. But her morals win out in the end. 

Artie and Finn leave to join Santana and Puck. Trying not to feel dejected, Rachel returns to her seat.

“What was that?” Kurt asks.

“Artie’s planning on going to spy on the other schools, along with half of the Glee Club apparently.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he says, “I’m pretty sure Mr. Schue’s the only one dumb enough to believe your excuse for getting out of this diva-off. What’s really going on?”

Rachel sighs. There’s no getting past Kurt, she should really just accept that at this point. “What do you do whenever you’re in a funk? Because I think I’m in one right now.”

“Is this about Finn?”

Not at all, but she can’t bring herself to admit that she feels like she’s being left behind to Kurt. She’s acutely aware that he’s one of the people who would usurp her if she let her guard down enough.

Kurt thinks for a moment. “I find a way to distract myself. There’s this great show I watch with my dad where people come into this salon and get mostly tasteful haircuts. A lot of them do it to cope with a bad breakup. Which is a great time to reinvent yourself, by the way.”

“That sounds like something I need. I haven’t been feeling myself lately,” Rachel says.

“Might I suggest a makeover? I’d love to give you one, they’re like crack to me. I’m free after school tomorrow.”

Rachel searches his face for any hint of insincerity but fails to find one. She doesn’t exactly know what a makeover entails and frankly she’s a little scared to ask. Still, if there’s a chance this could help her get out of her funk, she should probably take it.

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” Rachel says. “No haircut though.”

“Fair.”

_***_

“You’re Catholic right?” Finn asks Santana. “Why aren’t you going here? It looks nicer than McKinley.”

“Are you kidding me? This place is a prison dude,” Puck says. avoiding anything that can touch him. Except the floor. None of them can avoid that, except for Artie. Was that offensive to think about? “I’m super into Catholic girls but there’s no chick hot enough to make me come here.”

“The same reason Quinn isn’t going here. We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Santana answers. 

None of their GPSs could pick up where Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow was. They had to pull out a map from Santana’s dashboard compartment that Finn’s pretty sure is from the 60s. It felt like they were driving for hours before Puck got out of the car to ask for directions at a rundown gas station. 

Ignoring the 20-minute fight between Santana and Artie over the radio about halfway through the trip, they made it to the school just fine.

They all had to change clothes to avoid standing out. Finn changed into a button-down with khaki pants and brown loafers, which is the outfit he always wears whenever Quinn drags him to Sunday Mass. Turning around and seeing Santana in a long loose dress and flats never fails to startle him. Artie brought wigs just in case but they all immediately turned them down.

Artie, who didn’t have to change out of her sweater vest, reminds them of their mission. “We come to their rehearsals and look at what we’re dealing with. We’re trying not to get caught, okay? We’re trying not to get caught,” she repeats slowly, “but if we do, just act like we’ve always been students here. Also we should probably stop standing in front of the main office. We look suspicious.”

Santana nods, pulling them away from the main office. “We should check the sanctuary first.”

“I agree. My guess is that their show choir also functions as their ecclesiastical choir,” Artie says.

“Yeah, probably. Do you think their director is also their cantor?”

“Hmm. No, their version of Rachel Berry would be the cantor.”

Puck nudges Finn with his elbow. “Dude, you got any clue what they’re saying?”

“Kinda,” he says. Finn’s only gone to Mass a few times with Quinn. He focused so hard on mastering the art of genuflecting that he can’t remember much else.

He was surprised to see she slept in last Sunday morning, considering Quinn never misses Sunday Mass. His mother had already left for work so it was just him and Quinn. She told him there was no way she could show her face around her church now that she’s been disowned. If her parents won’t support her then neither will her parish.

“How’s Quinn?” Puck asks.

“Fine.” He’s so tired of this question. “She’s fine.”

“Hey, I was just asking. It sucks that her family kicked her out and stuff. If there’s anything I can do to he- ”

“Why do you keep saying that? Why do you even want to help us?” Finn asks. He’s not even going to pretend that he understands the stress Quinn’s been under but that doesn’t make any of the pressure on him any less real. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this.

Puck lets out an exasperated sigh. “Bro, the last time I checked, we were best friends. Unless you’ve replaced me with Hummel, seeing as you two have become so chummy-chummy recently.”

“This better not turn into a gay joke.”

“Boys,” Santana interrupts. “Artie and I are going to the sanctuary now. Since neither of you are Catholic, you get to stay out here and… keep guard or something.”

Puck looks relieved but Finn’s confused about something. “Are you Catholic, Artie?”

“Nope,” she says, “But I’ve done enough research to know the customs of Catholic law. Plus, I’m pretty sure God has no room to exclude me from any of his places, given how much he’s nerfed me.”

“If any girls come up to you, don’t talk to them. Got it? Good. It shouldn’t take that long.” Santana says, walking down the hall without looking back at them. Artie follows close behind.

Puck raises an eyebrow at that. “Wait, I thought the whole point of this plan was for all of us to che- and they’re gone.”

It’s never been awkward between Finn and Puck, even when they’ve been alone. But now, Finn thinks he’d rather be going with the girls, blasphemy or not. Has he really been neglecting his best bro? It’s true that he’s been hanging out with Kurt a lot but none of that has been his fault. It’s not like he could have picked who he had to sing a ballad with. And if he did, he definitely would have picked Puck.

He breaks the silence. “Sorry dude.”

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I should say sorry too. I feel like every conversation I have with you ends up with us talking about Quinn or the kid or both.”

Finn thinks about the past few weeks and Puck’s right. Maybe he should fix that. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to get through the rest of this year without the support of his best bro. “Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

“Running through some old car shops for motorcycle parts. I’m planning on tricking out my bike since I’m practically drowning in the cash I’ve been getting from cleaning pools.”

“Is it cool if I join you?” Finn asks. It would also be nice to get a break from Quinn.

Puck shrugs, though Finn doesn’t miss how one of the corners of his mouth quirks up into a grin. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

They hear footsteps and turn to see a student has walked up to them. A blonde girl with a cross necklace. Finn has no recollection of when she first showed up and judging by the surprised look on his face, Puck doesn’t either.

She looks at Finn. Then at Puck, frowning. “You don’t belong here.”

“Yeah? Who says?” Puck asks.

The girl presses her lips into a thin line. “Prove it. What’s your favorite Bible verse?”

“Oh! Uh,” Finn knows she’s only asking Puck but if Puck says anything, they’re done for. He racks his brain trying to remember any of the things Quinn’s said to him. “Deuteronomy 31, uh, 6?” 

That’s the one Quinn keeps writing in the margins of her notebook. He can’t remember what it says or if it’s even in the Old Testament but the girl seems pleased. Finn smiles back at her. She’s very pretty.

The girl blushes. “Oh, thank you.”

Finn said that out loud, didn’t he?

“You’re welcome,” he says back. She looks like Quinn. “Um what’s your name?”

“Mary Ruth,” she replies, “And you?”

“Fin- “

“Sorry, not your team,” Puck says, inserting himself between them. He grabs Finn’s arm and drags him away. They duck around the corner “Dude, seriously? We’re supposed to be undercover.”

“I didn’t mean to say she was pretty out loud!” Finn insists.

Puck punches his arm, a little too forceful to be considered wholly playful. They come to an agreement; they’ll go back to standing in front of the main office and wait for the girls there. If they pretend to be having an intense discussion about whatever Catholics talk about, no one will come up to them.

“Aren’t you Christian?” Pucks starts after another minute of deliberation.

Finn shakes his head. “I don’t know what I am. I think there has to be something out there but I dunno if it’s God or some science crap.”

“I get you.”

They don’t even have to pretend. Conversation comes easily to them after that, just as always. Eventually, Santana and Artie appear by their side. Neither of them look impressed. Santana tells them that they’re barely a show choir.

“We just sat through them singing _Papa Don’t Preach_ by Madonna. I am appalled,” she says, reminding Finn a little of Coach Sylvester.

Artie confirms. “I thought she was going to throw up halfway through. Their choir director did.”

Santana waves away Finn’s concerned face. “Don’t make that face Lumps, I’m fine. Let’s bounce.”

_***_

Rachel hasn’t had anyone over to her house in years.

Her dads aren’t home. She called out to them, saying that she brought a friend over, before remembering that they had a dog show they were going to go watch. Thankfully they managed to clean up most of the living room before they left. Although she does have to take their half-empty wine glasses back to the kitchen, teasingly offering Kurt the chance to finish one before doing so.

She catches him staring at the baby pictures mounted on the living room wall when she comes back. 

“Have you ever met your mom?” he asks, accepting the glass of water she got for him.

“I don’t have a mom,” she says simply.

He gets the hint. Rachel’s never realized just how many family photos are up around her house until she tries to lead Kurt to her bedroom. He keeps stopping to ask her about certain pictures, and honestly, she doesn’t remember the stories behind some of them. 

“Okay, before we go into my room,” Rachel says when they finally get to her door. She taps her fingernails on the door handle, “I have some rules. One, don’t you dare make any comments about my choices of which Broadway musical posters get put up on my walls. And two, you have to promise you won’t laugh at my vision board.”

Kurt grins. “Deal. As long as a picture of Finn isn’t tacked onto it.”

Rachel feels her face turn red. Sure, she has a massive crush on Finn but the only boy allowed to be on her vision board is one of the few people who stand between her and that national championship title. She’s sure he’ll understand why.

And sure enough, Kurt looks pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a picture of Jesse St. James, his picture torn in half along the neck.

“How’d you get that picture of him? I heard Carmel High has a strict policy where its students aren’t allowed to be photographed on campus,” he tells her as they clear off the surface of her vanity. “Which is why most of them camp out in their auditorium, All of the big show choir blogs have talked about it. Apparently he’s caused more than fifty cameras to get confiscated alone.”

“As if those cameras didn’t break the moment the pictures were taken,” she mutters under her breath. She allows herself a small, private smile when she hears him laugh.

They don’t have much to work with, makeup-wise. Rachel’s tried so many face products in hopes of getting that dewy look Quinn manages to have with a clean face, but each one has wreaked havoc on her skin. She’s not classy enough for any lipstick color that’s not her natural shade and the last time she tried to put on mascara she cried black tears for days. Which look amazing on camera, by the way. Kurt picks up one of her foundation bottles and quickly drops it, recoiling in what looks like intense fear.

“Where’s your closet? I can’t handle this anymore,” he says after twenty minutes of trying to pull a look together just by looking at the brand names of her products. She stopped trying to help when he smacked her hand away about three minutes in. He had shoved a curling iron into her hands and told her to work on curling her hair.

She points to it with the end of the curling iron, working her other hand through a particularly tight curl. Kurt tosses a few of her makeup products into the trash as he walks into her closet. 

“Hey, Kurt?” she asks. She’s been waiting for this opportunity. “I thought you were already out of- “

“Heard it already!” he calls out. His voice is barely audible under the sound of hangers sliding on metal. “Why are all of your clothes - oh my god you _actually_ don’t own any pants. Wait no, I found some.” He emerges moments later with a few of her favorite clothes on his arm. “Alright. Tell me what you want.”

Rachel puts down the curling iron. What does she want? Looking at herself in the mirror, all she can focus on is her nose. Kurt’s not a miracle worker, and frankly, she doesn’t know where to begin with fixing her nose, but she wishes she could do something about it. She looks down at her lap in shame. Why is she even thinking about this? There’s nothing wrong with her nose. At least, that’s what she has to keep telling herself.

When she looks back up, it’s not her face she sees. It’s Quinn Fabray’s. 

“Something that will make people notice me more,” she settles on saying.

“But something that still stays true to yourself, right? Maybe something that brings out parts of yourself that you haven’t thought about before?” he suggests as he starts sorting her clothes on her bed.

Rachel smiles. She knew Kurt would understand what she wanted.

Or maybe not, because the next day may be the worst day of her life.

“How could you do this to me?”

She didn’t mean for her words to come out so harshly, but oh well. When Kurt doesn’t immediately respond, she grabs his locker door and slams it shut. The few students in the hallway with them jump but once they see who’s causing the commotion, they go right back to doing whatever they were doing before. 

She’s never been so humiliated in her life. Her dads didn’t say anything about her outfit when she said goodbye to them this morning but she desperately wishes they did. She’s never liked tank tops - her shoulders are too broad, her arms too pasty - and her skin must be sensitive to whatever her choker’s made out of because she’s been scratching at her neck all morning.

“Calm down,” Kurt says, “Your audition is Friday. Mercedes would be livid if she ends up getting the solo because you destroyed your voice yelling at me.”

“Who cares about the audition?!” she asks. Kurt’s taken aback but she continues, “I’m going to die of embarrassment before Friday even comes.”

When Rachel first entered the school, Coach Sylvester plucked her beanie off her head, only to slap it back on with a disgusted look on her face when she saw it was Rachel wearing it. 

“Everyone’s been looking at me all day, I feel so violated.” She hates how she sounds like she’s on the verge of crying. It’s taking so much restraint not to bolt into the bathroom and lock herself in one of the stalls. She almost does when she realizes that Kurt’s not even looking at her face, just her clothes.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks evenly. “You told me you wanted something that would get you more attention.”

Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, running her hands up and down her arms to let her feel at least a little warmth. The plaid button-up was to stay tied around her waist. That’s what Kurt told her. But now she knows she can’t listen to Kurt. Not anymore.

“All I’ve been getting are compliments from girls,” she explains, “but I can tell what they’re really thinking. ‘Look at Rachel Berry trying to look sexy. All she’s accomplished is looking like a Cabbage Patch Kid and a whore at the same time.’”

“Has anyone actually told you that?”

“No, but I know they’re thinking it Kurt.”

She thought it would just be the Cheerios tormenting her but it’s been girls from every level of McKinley’s cruel caste system. Pretty girls, ugly girls. Girls from the AV club and even girls from the Celibacy Club. All the boys have been avoiding her and she just knows that it’s because their demented little girlfriends have been talking about her.

At least Santana didn’t have the gall to say anything to her during Spanish. Her eyes were on her the entire time, and her gaze was so intense she could practically feel holes boring in between the uncomfortable patch of skin between where her tank top ends and her high-rise jeans begin. Still, she said nothing. Even when Rachel had to turn around to pass her Mr. Schue’s lesson handout. 

Kurt looks over her outfit one more time. “I see where you went wrong. You’re wearing boots and not the high-tops I gave you.”

“Do you think this is funny? God, I’m never asking you for help ever again. I thought we were friends.”

“Look, Rachel,” he says, “I know you’re upset, but you need to stop letting this get to you. You and I both still have the lowest approval ratings out of anyone in this school. Do you think we’ve climbed any higher up the social ladder since we started doing Glee full time?”

Rachel’s eyes narrow. _“You_ have.”

“That’s unrelated and you know that. You think people have already forgotten about the malicious acts the football team inflicted on me before they decided that I would be their one exception?” Kurt counters.

Rachel has enough control over her racing thoughts to know that she can’t fight with him over that. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. Now, I’d love for you to give me a second chance. It’ll haunt me forever if I knew I failed to give Rachel Berry a makeover. Conceptually there was only room for improvement. You have to tell me exactly what you want this time though,” he says.

She takes a deep breath. “Okay, I _do_ want to get more attention, but only from one specific person.”

_***_

Day two of their mission. Finn and Puck haven’t stopped talking since they left McKinley and it’s starting to annoy Artie.

Separately, Artie can handle both of them. They’ve even impressed her on more than one occasion with their devotion to the club. Though one of those occasions resulted in her taking collateral damage via frozen drink, she's mostly forgiven them for that. Mostly.

But when they’re together, they can be truly insufferable.

“Uh, so what’s the plan?” Finn asks as they near the steps of Jane Addams Academy.

“Yeah. How are me and Finn getting in there?” Puck asks, “We don’t exactly fit the criteria here.”

“I mean, maybe we can? We both like girls. We have the vibe, or whatever. Wait.” Finn comes up behind Artie and shoves his hand into her backpack. Pulling out a few wigs, he tosses one to Puck. “Bro, if we put these on we could totally pass.”

Puck agrees, trying to flatten his afro to make room for his blonde wig. 

Thankfully, Santana looks as if she’s also fed up. She yanks the wig out of Puck’s hand, smirking at his protests. Turning to Finn, she holds out her hand, “Fork over the wig, Jabba the Hutt. We went over this already. You two,” she says, pointing at Finn before swinging her finger over to point at Puck, “are our two gay dads who want their lesbian daughters- ”

“Can I be bi?” Artie interrupts.

“Fine, whatever. It doesn’t matter. You two are our two gay dads who want their lesbian and _bisexual_ daughters,” Santana’s shooting daggers at Artie, “to go to a nice private school away from boys and other temptations.”

Finn shares a look with Puck. “But we aren’t gay.”

Santana’s already jumping up the steps. “You are now. Did you see the ramp Artie?”

Artie did not. Sure enough, there’s a ramp leading up to the main doors. She kind of glossed over it by habit. The ramp the Glee Club built for the auditorium sapped all of their funds, leaving Artie to wish at times that they chose to make one for the main entrance to McKinley instead. Just so that she doesn’t have to come in through the backside of the building every morning.

“It’s kinda steep,” Puck says, “You want help?”

“No thanks dad. I can handle it myself,” Artie deadpans. She was already going up it when he asked. “Also, if you ever touch my chair without my consent, let’s just say Finn will become a single parent.”

They get in surprisingly easily. Santana presses the door phone and pulls off the sweet, submissive young girl’s voice so convincingly that Artie starts to question her perception of her. Then the doors let out a ‘click’ and Santana’s devilish smile returns.

The hallways are mostly cleared out, save for a few girls in what looks like sports uniforms.

“Softball,” Artie says in realization at the same time as Finn.

The softball girls stop talking as they pass by. One of them definitely checks Santana out, whispering and giggling with the other girls when they think their group is out of earshot. Artie tries her hardest not to feel dejected. Santana’s a catch, she’s not afraid to admit that. Not Artie’s type but even if she was, she knows Artie’s not her type. Regardless of the blonde hair. So it makes sense that when they round the corner and run into more girls - art kids, judging by the small embellishments on their school uniforms - Santana gets stopped.

“I haven’t seen you two around before. Are you new?” one of the girls asks.

“Yes” Santana says, reverting back to her naive yet dangerously charming persona. She places her hands on Puck’s arm and pulls him closer. “Well, not yet. Our daddies are looking around the area for a good school that both me and my little sis can attend without worrying about coed classrooms.”

Finn nods his head enthusiastically. He deepens his voice slightly, “Boys, am I right ladies?”

“Yeah, they’re the worst!” Puck adds in. “Wish I could be like you girls and like women.”

The art girls look at each other. “We all have boyfriends.”

“Okay!” Santana says, her voice tense and an octave higher than before, “That’s enough daddy. Say, can you point us to the direction of the auditorium or wherever your Glee Club practices?”

“You mean our Loser Club?” One of the girls scoffs. 

“Wanky.”

“Yeah, The Hipsters practice in our auditorium. Keep going down this hall. You can’t miss it.”

Santana moves them along as soon as the girl finishes speaking, muttering something snippy about how show choirs come up with the stupidest names. As inept as Mr. Schue is, Artie’s more than happy being a part of the ‘New Directions’. Although, as they open the doors to the auditorium, Artie discovers that what the Hipsters lack in a clever name, they make up for in talent.

_“Shadonda, Can you handle this?”_ One of them asks, whipping her hair around so gracefully that Artie wishes she could rewind time and watch it again.

_“Aphasia, Can you handle this?”_ Another girl replies.

Their group walks down the auditorium aisles to get a better view as one final girl steps up. _“Jayelle, Can you handle this?”_

All three girls turn to Santana and Artie at the same time, _“I don't think they can handle this!”_

A few of the Hipsters excitedly gesture for them to come up on stage. Quickly looking around for a ramp, and sighing in relief when she spots one, Artie pushes herself onto the stage as fast as she can. Santana’s already situated herself in the front of the formation when Artie finally makes it up, looking like Hippolyta herself with her harem of Amazonian warriors. Taking her hair down to whip it, Santana looks out towards the boys.

_“Spotted me a tender thing  
There you are, come on baby  
Don't you wanna dance with me  
Can you handle, handle me”_

Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Artie takes over on the bridge. R&B may not be her preferred genre but few know Destiny’s Child like she does.

_“You gotta do much better if you gonna_  
_dance with me tonight  
You gotta work your jelly if you gonna  
dance with me tonight”_

Artie can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun. Mercedes really should have come with them. She would have killed this song.

It all ends too soon. Santana swiftly pulls her hair back up into a ponytail, holding the band in her mouth as she tries to comb through the newly-formed knots in her hair. Finn and Puck are still standing in the aisles, stunned. Puck breaks out of his daze first and pushes Finn out of the way to get to the stage. The Hipsters gather around Santana, forming a wall across the edge of the stage Puck’s trying to scramble up.

Just when Artie’s about to come down to join Finn, one of the girls turns her attention away from Santana. She catches Artie’s eyes and waves her over. 

Oh sweet lord. 

Artie’s been rebuffed more than enough times to tell when someone’s out of her league, and this one definitely is. Oh well. She’s cute and won’t remember Artie’s name come Sectionals. And also kind of familiar. Putting on an easy smile, she approaches the girl with forced low expectations. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

The girl matches her smile. So far, so good. She points at something on her shirt. Right next to her shoulder.

“Can you get closer? I have bad eyes,” Artie says, adjusting her glasses and leaning forward.

The girl nods, kneeling in front of Artie. 

“Treshelle,” she reads aloud.

Treshelle taps on her name, which is embroidered on her uniform - must be some sort of art kid. Artie’s sure that’s against their school dress code - before gesturing towards Artie.

“Artemis,” she supplies. The grin she’s been holding back slips through. “Also, I was messing with you. My eyes aren’t that bad. I just wanted to see your eyes up close. Yep. They’re brown alright.”

Treshelle’s face brightens with silent laughter. Artie’s not leaving until she gets her number. Or turned down. The latter is more likely but a girl can hope. 

Thankfully she doesn’t have to decide. Treshelle mimics holding a pencil, scratching her other palm as if she was writing something. Artie all but tears her backpack open. “I’m free Saturday night.”

_***_

It’s Saturday. It’s one day after her audition was supposed to happen.

Yes, she got the texts. She got the phone calls. No, she wasn’t ready. For the first time since Rachel Berry joined McKinley High’s disgraced Glee Club, she wasn’t ready.

Mr. Schue was kind enough to give her a second chance, which is why she’s wandering the halls at noon on a Saturday. He also assigned another rehearsal later today about an hour after her audition. Everyone had groaned but Rachel couldn’t be more grateful. She knows she needs to stop using the choir room as a method of escape but she can’t stop her legs from carrying her there.

She also wasn’t prepared for what she would see in there. Or, who, in this case. 

“What are you doing here?” Rachel asks, “I thought you quit.”

“Sure seemed like it, huh?”

The ceiling lights are off but enough light’s streaming through the windows for her to clearly make out Quinn Fabray’s silhouette. The same silhouette she’s seen everywhere; whenever she passes by Finn’s locker, whenever her curiosity gets the better of her and she does a quick sweep around the football field during practice. Whenever she looks in the mirror. Whenever she forgets what she’s fighting for. 

She asks Quinn again, “What are you doing here?”

Quinn doesn’t answer right away. She takes a moment to look at Rachel’s hair, then at her chest - which makes Rachel quickly cross her arms over it, even though she knows Quinn’s only looking at the pattern of her blouse, before ending at her shoes. Which, Rachel realizes, are the same kind of shoes Quinn’s wearing right now. 

Wait a second. 

Rachel looks down at her outfit again. Kurt pushed her bangs back with a headband and told her to stay away from heavy makeup. So she just put on a little mascara and some lip gloss and called it a day. She thought about wearing lipstick but all of the colors she had didn’t look good with her yellow blouse and striped skirt, which Kurt also picked out.

“You look like me,” Quinn says.

She’s going to kill Kurt. They can replace him, they can find another countertenor if they look hard enough. 

“Is this a joke?” Quinn continues, “Is Noah about to pop up from behind the piano with a camera and humiliate me even more than I already have been?”

Rachel struggles to swallow down the lump in her throat. “No, this isn’t a joke. Can, um, can I sit next to you?”

Every expression Quinn makes now is the same. Tired. It takes Rachel a moment to figure out if she’s been granted permission or not. When she settles down next to Quinn, she pops her shoes off. Rachel’s never worn anything with a sizable heel. She can’t imagine doing it every day.

“So is there a reason why you dressed up as me or did I accidentally start a new fashion trend?” Quinn asks.

Rachel shakes her head. “I’ll tell you why, but only If you tell me why you’ve decided you wanted to come back to rehearsals.”

“This room’s one of the only places I’ve felt safe in lately. I keep chasing a dream that doesn’t exist anymore. All I want is for things to be as they were before any of this. Do you know what it’s like to lay in bed at night, wondering why no one will answer your pleas for help?” Quinn asks. Rachel doesn’t answer. “I keep asking myself ‘Why did you do it Quinn?’, and I only recently realized that whatever ‘it’ is changes for me every time I ask it.”

Rachel knows she shouldn’t push for more but she can’t help herself. “What was ‘it’ the last time you asked?”

Quinn answers, “Why did you ever let yourself believe you were a good person?”

Never in a million years could Rachel have guessed that.

“I know people idolize me,” Quinn continues, ”or, at least they used to. I loved it, I built my whole life around it. If so many people looked up to me, then there was no way I could be a monster, right?” 

“Who ever made you feel like you were a monster?” Rachel already knows the answer.

Quinn smiles. It’s distant but still as contentious and calculated as it’s always been. “You.” She doesn’t give Rachel time to respond. “He looks at you the same way he looked at me before any of this happened.”

Finn. It’s always about Finn.

And it will always be about Finn. Rachel can recognize that. Even now, when Quinn’s been knocked off her golden pedestal and exiled to the downtrodden recesses Rachel’s known her whole life, they’ll never get along. And it’s because of Finn. Finn, who made the Glee Club become what it is today; alive. Alive and a place where Rachel could finally feel like she has her own golden pedestal. 

At least, up until now.

“Please don’t take him away from me.” Quinn’s voice comes out as a whisper, cracking with emotion at the word ‘away’.

“I can’t promise that,” Rachel says earnestly. Her heart clenches when Quinn closes her eyes and nods in silent resignation. “I’m not actively trying to take him away from you, okay? It just happens when- when. Okay, imagine you’re one half of a whole. And you’ve found someone who fills in that empty feeling. You two end up gravitating towards each other, and no matter how far away you get from them, physically or otherwise, they just keep... finding you again.”

It sounded more eloquent in her head. Whatever garble just came out of her mouth won’t win any Pulitzers, nor will it console Quinn, it looks like, but it feels nice. Being able to say what she’s been thinking this entire time.

“And you think Finn’s your other half?” Quinn asks. ”The person you’re tethered to and can never get away from?”

Rachel tries, “I mean, my only other option would be Kurt. And it’s definitely not him.”

Even though Quinn’s smile returns, it’s obvious her joke didn’t land like she wanted it to. Rachel checks the time. Her audition is in ten minutes, and she wasted precious time to practice on talking to Quinn Fabray of all people.

But she didn’t waste all of it. She turns back to Quinn. “Can I practice my audition in front of you? You don’t have to say or do anything. I just need someone to sing to.”

Quinn says yes, and Rachel gets up. She walks to the middle of the choir room and clears her throat. Like always, she pictures her intended audience in her mind’s eye. This time it’s Mr. Schue.

It’s supposed to be Mr. Schue, but as she begins singing the opening lines of _And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going,_ she only sees herself and Quinn in the audience.

_***_

“I have to say, I’m impressed, girls. If I was physically capable of giving praise, I would give you two some.”

Santana shares a look with Brittany, who smiles back at her. Sneaking a quick look at Coach, she slides her hand between their chairs, grasping for Brittany’s hand. They find each other eventually. They always do.

It was way too easy; giving each school the setlist and all. Both choir directors said nothing when Santana handed it over. She knew Puck and Finn wouldn’t be able to catch onto her real plan but she honestly thought Artie would. Santana must be a better actor than she initially thought. Or maybe the Glee Club really is as stupid as it looks.

Brittany raises her hand. “Coach Sylvester, does this mean you’re not going to cut us into pieces and feed us to the dogs anymore?”

“Oh sweet, sweet Brittany,” Coach says, tutting, “I was never going to do that. See, your perky blonde bits are worth enough money on the black market to dissuade me from that. But, it looks like Santana has saved you both from your respective fates, and me from a 30-year sentence to federal prison.”

“It wasn’t just me. Brittany helped too. She was the one who convinced Schuester to give us the setlist in the first place,” Santana adds on.

“Quinn helped too,” Brittany says, swaying their linked hands slightly. “She kept Rachel and Kurt distracted all week. I don’t think she knew she was in on the plan, but whenever I visited her I whispered it into her ear every time she tried to nap.”

Coach Sylvester slows down on her elliptical. That’s normally a bad sign but the rush of euphoria from completing her mission is enough to make Santana feel immune from anything Coach can throw at her. She squeezes Brittany’s hand as if to say ‘hey! don’t worry, she’s not going to kill us.’, keeping steady eye contact with Coach.

“So that’s where I need to aim next, huh? Porcelain and sex-deprived Audrey Hepburn... of course,” Coach says to herself, “The noxious fumes coming Will Schuester’s disgusting, flea-ridden hair must have blinded me.”

She hops off her elliptical and swipes the nonexistent sweat off her forehead. Grabbing the protein shake on her desk, her eyes immediately lock onto Santana and Brittany’s joined hands, and though it almost hurts to do so, for some reason, Santana quickly lets go. She ignores Brittany’s frown, the disappointed look on her face.

Coach comes closer, looming over them and shaking her smoothie. “Ladies. What you do in your own time is none of my concern but what you do in here, in my office, is. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” Santana says at the same time Brittany says, “No.”

“Good,” Coach says. She unscrews the cap on her smoothie and pours its contents into the trash can she keeps near her chair. “Now, about Q. I can’t let her back on the team. And it has nothing to do with her transforming from the beloved Virgin Mary to Mary Magdalene in the span of a few nights. I deal with degenerates the same way I deal with the homeless. I drop them off outside government buildings and let our great American leaders take care of them. Oh no, Quinn Fabray has caused me an even greater offense.”

After all of her protein shake has dripped out of her smoothie cup, Coach throws the entire thing into the garbage. “Do you see the mirror I’ve attached to my desk? Look into it and tell me what you see.”

Santana looks around. “Which one?”

“Whichever one tickles your fancy. Ah!” Coach says after Santana scoots her chair closer to Brittany to share the mirror on the front corner of her desk. “Two separate mirrors. Now, tell me what you see.”

“A Latina with a smoking hot set of cheekbones.”

“The future I’m too scared to try to comprehend. Spoilers, we all get to live on Mars sometime in the next 30 years.”

Coach opens one of her desk drawers and places a razor, a bundle of grapes, and a picture of Mr. Schue into a new blending cup. “Do you know what I see? I see an older Quinn Fabray. She had promise.” Coach pours water from her water bottle into the cup. “She was like the daughter I never wanted and got stuck with, and then she made a big mistake.”

The blender turns on and Coach shoves the cup onto it. “She let a man take over her life. One Finn Hudson, and now where is she? Disgraced and alone with only Will Schuester’s gang of plague-spreading rats to keep her company. Now get out of my office. I have a shampoo bottle to fill.”

Neither of them need to be told twice. The whirring of the blender on its own is enough to make Santana fear for her life.

“What now?” Brittany asks when they’re a safe distance away.

“Nothing.” She needs to stop saying that, but she can’t jeopardize her position now. She can’t jeopardize everything she’s done so far to get her here.

Santana looks at Brittany. She can’t jeopardize this. Whatever it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The two schools were originally Jane Addams Academy (though they were a juvie school) and the Haverbrook School for the Deaf in the show. Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow is a school that appears later in the actual show, but we thought it would be more amusing to have the New Directions go up against a school full of lesbians and a school full of Catholics at Sectionals.
> 
> While Mary Ruth has no significance in the fic nor in real life, Treshelle does. She was in the show as one of the students who attended the Haverbrook School for the Deaf. Though, her character doesn’t have a name, so we just gave her character her actress’s name. She has a connection to Ali Stroker (our Artie!) but we’ll let you do the digging on your own for that.


	12. Mattress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Rachel decided to give up singing Defying Gravity for Sectionals but she wasn’t prepared for Mercedes to come in with And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going and steal her spotlight. So Rachel got stuck in a funk and she asked Kurt to give her a makeover which only made her feel worse. Santana, Artie, Puck, and Finn went to the schools they’re competing against in Sectionals to check them out. They had a blast but secretly Santana was giving each school the New Directions’ setlist. And things are getting rocky between Quinn and Finn, which Quinn is worried about because he still doesn’t know that he’s not the father. Puck is.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re picking up right where we left off. Let’s see how Rachel’s audition went.
> 
> Sectionals are so close. It’s within reach.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

“I’m actually going to kill you.”

Santana takes the news about as well as Rachel expected. 

“Listen, I know this has been a colossal waste of all of your time, and I’m sorry for that.” Rachel looks sheepishly at Mercedes. “I’m especially sorry for not admitting this right away - you should have had this whole week to practice instead of waiting for me.” 

Mercedes shakes her head, a deservedly self-satisfied grin on her face. “Oh, don’t sweat it Rachel. If I needed the extra week to make it good enough for Sectionals, I never would have beaten you in the first place.” 

“Rachel, not that I don’t appreciate the significance of this uncanny act of humility, but are you feeling ok?” Kurt leans forward, the calligraphy patterns on his otherwise normal button-up making it hard to maintain eye contact. “You’re never one to just concede the spotlight to someone else without a fight.” 

Rachel knows better than to hope that the shade of red she’s turning isn’t obvious to the entire room, but she plays it off as best she can. “Well, Kurt, becoming the star I’m destined to be isn’t just about pushing my voice to greater heights. It’s also about learning to be a good team player. Even if I could match Mercedes, the right choice for the chemistry of the New Directions would be to step aside and let one of our other talents shine.” 

Artie raises an eyebrow. “‘Even if’?” 

Rachel forces herself to look at Mercedes again. “Well, yes. Because it’s also important for me to know my own limits. And I know that right now, I can’t match your performance of _And I Am Telling You I’m Not Going._ And to audition as if I think I can wouldn’t be honest.” She holds out her hand. “You won, fair and square. The solo for Sectionals belongs to you.” 

Mercedes returns the handshake. “And I’ll make sure we win. You won’t regret this.” 

“Wow, guys, can I just say how proud I am of the teamwork on display here?” pipes up Mr. Schue, always a sure bet to deflate a moment. “Everyone give it up for Rachel and Mercedes!” 

The dead air and murderous look in Santana’s eyes are thankfully both interrupted by Finn having a lightbulb moment.

“Wait a minute. Guys. This means we actually know the setlist for next week. We actually have a shot at winning!”

“Right you are, Finn.” says Mr. Schue, jumping at the chance to uncap a marker. “We lead off with Mercedes. One singer, one spotlight, _Dreamgirls_ to bring the house down. From there we transition to Mercedes and Artie leading the ensemble with _Proud Mary_ \- and the choreo for that number is going to be the top priority for the next week of rehearsals. And to bring it all home, Finn and Rachel will lead us in _Don’t Stop Believin’_ \- our trump card. You guys know it inside and out, but stay vigilant - we can’t afford to get overconfident. We have to win Sectionals to continue this year, and with Sue’s ultimatums to the administration hovering over us, we’re competing for our survival next year too. So let’s get down to business. Jane Addams and Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow won’t know what hit them.” 

It’s actually a competent piece of coaching, and Rachel reminds herself that Mr. Schue isn’t completely dead weight. But mostly, she’s just relieved that she got through the rehearsal without having to admit the real reason she conceded the solo to Mercedes. 

The words had been rattling around in her head ever since she finished singing the song to an auditorium empty except for Quinn Fabray, who took what felt like an eternity to say anything but finally delivered the kind of direct, honest assessment that Rachel never could have imagined a former cheer captain would be capable of offering her. 

_“That was really good,”_ she said. _“But it wasn’t your best.”_

And that was all it took. And as much as Rachel feels confident she made the right choice for the right reasons - she heard Mercedes audition just like everybody else, and she knows nothing but her best would be good enough to beat it - she can’t deny that the fact that she’s suddenly making major performance decisions based on the opinions of Quinn Fabray is absolutely terrifying. 

As it turns out, though, Mr. Schue isn’t quite done. 

“There’s one more thing. Production of the McKinley High yearbook for 2009-10 has started, and it’s customary for every student organization to get a featured page. Unfortunately,” he continues with that signature scowl only Sue Sylvester can induce, “due to the Cheerios monopolizing six pages for themselves and our club’s probationary status, Principal Figgins has informed me that we only get half a page. Since that isn’t enough space for a proper club photo, I have been instructed to select two co-captains to represent the inaugural season of the New Directions in McKinley history. If any of you would like -”

“I nominate Rachel Berry,” Santana interjects. “And I move that we elect her through unanimous voice vote. All in favor?” 

The chorus of assent would normally be gratifying if the smirk on Santana’s face didn’t make it clear that they were electing her not as a leader but as a sacrificial lamb. But they need a co-captain, and just because the rest of the school is too dominated by dead-enders to appreciate their talent doesn’t mean her teammates shouldn’t have a chance to shine. So as Mr. Schue dismisses them and they all file out of the choir room, she gets to work on making her pitches.

_***_

The morning light streaming through the window is more effective than any alarm clock, but Quinn lets her eyes rest for a few moments longer. The couch is comfortable, and the smell of Carole’s pancakes is wafting in from the kitchen, and if she just burrows into this blanket and stays there it will almost feel like she’s safe at home.

And in a way, she is. But just like the last time she had a roof over her head, she knows her time here is almost up. It’s just a matter of when the final thread gets pulled and the full extent of her sin is revealed. 

She knows it’s coming, and she knows that once it does, no one will be left. 

But it hasn’t yet, and she can’t help but smile when Carole’s voice comes from the kitchen, filled with so much love and so little judgement that it’s at once comforting and utterly strange. 

“Quinn, dear, breakfast is ready!” 

“Coming, Ms. Hudson.” 

When she gets to the table, Finn is already there, and all the stress and heartbreak of the past weeks comes crashing back at once. 

“Did you sleep alright?”

He’s asked her that every day since she showed up with nothing but her school backpack and a duffel bag full of clothes and refused his offer to give up his bed, much to Carole’s disapproval. But she insisted that it was a line she couldn’t cross, and they didn’t need to know that it was because she wouldn’t be welcome in their house much longer anyway. 

She nods silently, not trusting herself to speak. She doesn’t have any illusions that she can claim to be in love - she’s far too broken for that - but Finn has never meant more to her than he does now, here at the end, and it breaks her heart all over again that she long ago threw away her chance to make it matter.

“The air mattress should be here by tomorrow,” says Carole as she pours orange juice into Quinn’s glass. 

“You shouldn’t have. The couch is more than comfortable enough.” 

“I’m not having a pregnant girl in my house without a proper place to sleep.” Carole shakes her head. “Really, I’m not having any child in my house without one, but it sure helped secure a faster delivery.”

Quinn can’t help but smile at that. It’s a small thing, but the way Carole has consistently made it clear that Quinn is more than just her pregnancy has been surreal in the best possible way.

“So I’ve been thinking,” says Finn after he finishes wolfing down the last stack of pancakes and Carole goes outside to warm up the car. “This has been a rough couple of weeks for you.” 

Quinn feels her walls closing in again. The Hudsons have been perfect to her, but she doesn’t know how many grand gestures she can take. Especially since her anger at herself is the only thing keeping down the bitterness of how Finn’s last attempt at a grand gesture turned out. 

“This isn’t something we have to talk about.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say yet,” Finn protests. “Just hear me out.” He reaches out and takes her hand from across the table. “You’ve lost a lot. You need all the support you can get. And as much as you’ll always have me, and Brittany and Santana, there’s someone else I think you should talk to. I’ve actually been thinking about getting you two to be friends for a while now.” 

Quinn sighs. “If you say Rachel Berry, this is about to be the second house I get kicked out of in as many weeks.” 

He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. “Look I know you two are lifelong enemies, or whatever. And I know me singing with all her the time has made things awkward between us. But you’re both in really different places, and I know she wants to be there for you. Plus, if the three of us were able to hang out together, I really think we’d be a lot better off.”

It’s a surprisingly cogent argument, except for the fact that he’s making it sound way too easy.

“Finn, I’ve been nothing but horrible to Rachel for years. She has no reason to like me. What, just because she’s doing better than me all of a sudden I’m worthy of her pity? A project to prove that she can do anything she sets her mind to even if it’s demonstrably bad for her? That doesn’t sound like a dynamic either of us needs to be participating in.” 

Finn pauses. “Yeah, but do you really have a choice?”

Quinn lets go of his hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just that you’re not really in a position where you can afford to turn people down when they want to help.” 

He must see the expression on her face because he immediately starts to apologize, but it’s too late. All the fury she’s been directing inward comes bursting out.

“And whose fault is that? I would still be sleeping in my own bed right now, my parents still loving the version of me they used to think exists, if you hadn’t needed to work through your feelings about a pregnancy I don’t want and a baby neither of us are going to raise by doing by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.” 

Her anger washes over him like a tidal wave, and he looks absolutely stricken, but she can’t even feel that bad about it. It’s too much of a relief to have gotten it off her chest. 

“Kids?” Carole calls from the front door. “The car’s ready when you are.” When Quinn walks outside, she gives her a knowing glance and what Quinn thinks is an approving nod. 

Normally the radio would be on the whole way to school - it was only yesterday that Finn managed to coax Quinn into joining in on the Journey sing-along, she remembers bitterly - but Carole is a master at reading the room. They take the whole drive in silence.

_***_

“So what do you think, Co-Captain?” This will be easy. There couldn’t be a more obvious choice if April Rhodes herself were still in high school.

Kurt just stares at her like she just declared her intention to join the football team. 

“Rachel, did you miss the part where this grand musical partnership that you’re taking way too seriously started because I intentionally threw a diva-off so that I could keep my head low and protect my dad?” 

Rachel laughs. “Of course not.”

“And now you’re asking me to become the public face of the most socially toxic club since that one hippie’s kid tried to start a junior socialist club a few years ago.” 

“Oh.”

“Haven’t you asked Finn yet?” 

Rachel frowns. “I’ll get around to it.” Yes, she knows it’s the obvious choice. A few weeks ago, it would have been more obvious than Kurt, and as her spectacular faux pas has reminded her, it really still should be. But it can’t hurt to explore as many options as possible, can it? She knows Santana is obviously out, and Puck and Lauren are still jocks first, but everyone else should be able to appreciate what an honor the co-captaincy is. 

As it turns out, the next several minutes are an exercise in futility that makes her recruiting pitch to the Cheerios look like a masterpiece of negotiation. 

Mercedes, fresh off becoming the New Directions’ featured competition soloist? 

_“Sorry Rachel, but one act of gratuitous charity from you is enough for a day.”_ No dice.

Brittany, chaotic but not actively malevolent Cheerio and the single reason that Finn’s two left feet haven't yet caused any casualties? 

_“I thought Santana and I were already the co-captains.”_ So much for thinking outside the box. 

Artie, centerpiece of their blowout Sectionals number, multi-talented artist, and fantastic team player? 

_“I’d love to, Rach! Of course, I will be exercising the creative freedom that position bestows to rearrange Proud Mary so that we lead into it with my solo performance of Nicki Minaj’s verse from Young Money’s hit single Bedrock.”_

Absolutely not. 

She even contemplates going to Quinn, because for some reason she can’t quite pin down, she really doesn’t want to do the one thing she knows she has to, but she knows she can’t put something like this on her right now. So she finally manages to approach the one person she should have gone to first. 

“Will you do it?” 

Finn’s eyes are as far away as she’s ever seen them, and she realizes this is what she was afraid of.

“No.”

_***_

The rest of the day is a blur.

All Quinn can do is go through the motions. She aces a precalc test. She regurgitates passable analysis of Jane Eyre, a perfect book except for that terrible ending. She harmonizes her way through rehearsal on autopilot, and by the time Mr. Schuester has finished updating them on the practice schedule, she’s completely checked out. 

It’s only when Brittany and Santana are beside her that she remembers her surroundings again. 

“Alright Q, time to go,” Santana says, throwing an arm around her shoulder. 

Quinn frowns. “Go? Go where?” 

“Movie night at Britt’s.” She reaches over with her other hand to grab Brittany’s. “Our weekly negotiations over what to watch hit an impasse last night, so you get to toss the ceremonial coin to decide between _Bend It Like Beckham_ and _A League of Their Own.”_

Once again, Quinn marvels at how kindness can be just as painful as cruelty. 

“I couldn't do that. Movie night is your tradition, I would never intrude on that.” 

Santana shakes her head. “Uh uh. We’re not doing the whole self-martyr schtick. Watching you reenact the _My Immortal_ music video over and over again is taking years off my life, and it ends now. So you’re gonna get your stuff, you’re gonna text Finn to tell him you won’t be home tonight, and you’re gonna let your best friends do their damn jobs.” 

“And don’t worry,” Brittany adds. “You don’t have to pay us overtime.” 

Quinn can’t hold back the tears that spring to her eyes, so instead she just throws her arms around her friends and holds them both as close as she can. “Thank you both. For everything.”

“An Unholy Trinity has to stick together, right?” Santana pulls back and grips her shoulders. “Now come on. It’s time for our daring escape.” 

Brittany and Santana hold hands the whole drive over - Santana’s only just got her license, but she’s a master at steering with one hand - and all the worry Quinn used to have over those two melts away. The way they smile at each other, so full of love - how could that not be worth it? How could Quinn have ever tried to discourage it? 

When they get to the house, Britt ends up winning the coin toss, but she says Lord Tubbington unfairly influenced the coin with his brainwaves, so she graciously defers to Santana. 90 minutes and one movie that instantly becomes Quinn’s favorite of all time later, the three of them are huddled together in an honest-to-god pillow fort, flipping through last year’s yearbook.

Quinn squints at one particular photo. “Wait, is that… ?”

“The time Coach tried to make us do three-legged windsprints and I gave up and bridal carried Britt for the last fifty yards?” Santana finishes. “Yes it is.” 

“I still can’t believe you pulled that. I thought Coach was going to make you run yourself to death.” 

“Would have been worth it.” Santana flips the page. “And there’s the first time you ever ascended to the top of the pyramid, Q. The day our national championship became money in the bank.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without either of you.” Quinn closes her eyes, the memories so strong she can smell the artificial turf. “God, if I could just be back there for one more day.” 

“We did try to get Coach to reinstate you, but you know how she is,” Santana says. “Everything about your situation turns her self-hating lesbian god complex up to eleven. If there was a way… ”

“It’s fine. I don’t have any delusions that a grand redemption is in my future. I’m just sick of being tossed aside by people who pretend to care about me. And I wish I could get them back the way I used to.” 

As Brittany appears to drift off to sleep on Santana’s shoulder, Quinn’s former second in command looks up at her with a mischievous fire in her eyes. 

“You’re not in any shape for revenge, but I am. If you can’t join us in this year’s yearbook as Cheerios, I’ll make sure we’re in together as the New Directions.”

_***_

Rachel was expecting excuses and evasions from everyone else, but this is just ridiculous.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Finn, you’ve been leading this team since your first day. You’re the male lead, you brought us our best number, you’re the glue that keeps us together. If it’s not you, then who else is it?”

“I don’t care!” He yells, and the look on his face is worse than anything she could have anticipated. “Look, I’ll sing with you. I’ll dance with you. I’ll keep the entire football team off your back. But my girlfriend just had to move in with me because I got her kicked out of her house, so maybe I don’t feel like smiling for the camera and playing your leading man for a stupid yearbook.” 

The words are a gutpunch, every bit as bad as the cruel dismissals Quinn used to sling at her everyday in what feels like another lifetime. But even though she knows Quinn and Finn are in as low a place as they could be, she can’t abide him blaming his own love for the cruelty of a parent who would turn their back on their own child. “You didn’t get her kicked out of her house Finn. Her vicious, hateful, good-for-nothing parents did that.” 

“Yeah, because I outed her! Right in front of them, all because I had this… pathetic fantasy that I might actually be able to take care of Quinn, and that maybe something good could come out of all of this. That I was going to be a dad.” 

He cracks open at the end, actually sobbing. And Rachel doesn’t know what to do, except she knows about Finn’s dad and she knows what Quinn means to him and it all starts to make so much more sense, and before she can think about what she’s doing she’s managed to wrap her tiny arms around his massive frame and pull his head against her shoulder. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” She rubs circles into his back, and every stupid jealous thought and nervous hesitation she’s ever had around him disappears, because right now he’s her friend, and she loves him. 

When he regains control of himself enough to pull away, he starts to apologize, but Rachel cuts him off. “You’re right that the photo doesn’t matter. And far be it from me to turn down the opportunity to have the spotlight to myself. So it’ll be one captain, but when we win Sectionals it will be all of us. Can you promise me that?” 

Finn looks at her, and despite his tear-streaked face she thinks she sees a flicker of that old magic in his eyes, the same magnetism that made her fall in… something with him that first time they sang together. 

“I promise.” 

Rachel smiles. “Excellent. Then I’ll see you at rehearsal. I’ve got a photoshoot to get to.” She turns to leave, but he calls out to her one more time.

"And Rachel?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Thanks for everything." 

_***_

Quinn Fabray had never actually watched a game of football before.

Which wasn’t to say she was having trouble following the action, as she sat in the freezing bleachers watching her boyfriend try not to get himself killed for the fiftieth time. She learned a long time ago that dating Finn meant having to put up with shop talk, and while at first she had found it utterly inane and tedious, she eventually realized that the conversations could be pretty engaging once she knew what he was talking about, and she was nothing if not a quick study. 

Still, the actual sensation of the game had always been confined to soundscapes - the murmured signals in the huddle, the crunch of helmets against pads, the screams of pain when some unfortunate soul blew out his knee. She had always been facing the audience, only tangentially aware of the contest unfolding behind her as she worked in perfect concert with Brittany and Santana to perform athletic feats Finn could only dream of and feel the sensation, if only for a split second at a time, of being able to fly. 

All that was gone now, and she had only herself to blame. Cheer captain, meet bleachers. 

“I’m surprised you still come to these.” 

Quinn closes her eyes. This can’t be happening. She can’t possibly be here too. 

“I’m surprised you’re here at all. Since when do you go to Titans games without a Glee-related ulterior motive?”

Rachel Berry sits down next to her, because of course she does. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not pining after Finn.” She’s totally pining. “I’m here to support Kurt.” 

“I didn’t accuse you of anything, but I appreciate that you’re trying way too hard to deny how you feel for someone you don’t even like.” 

Rachel goes silent at that, probably because there’s no delicate way to acknowledge that it’s true. 

“It’s the first home game since I moved in. Wouldn’t be much of a cohabitation if I didn’t support my boyfriend’s career.” At least she can joke about it now. She tells herself that means it’s getting easier. 

On the field, Finn’s third down pass sails to nowhere, and Quinn curses under her breath. 

“Damn it Noah, the corner’s got safety help inside. Run the route to the pylon, it’s not that hard.” 

“Wait, what just happened? Why is it Noah’s fault?”

Quinn sighs. She’s already here; this might as well happen. 

“See that guy in the green jersey way further back than anything else?” 

Rachel tries to point him out, to no avail. “You mean him?” 

“No, him.” Quinn reaches over to move Rachel’s hand so that her finger is pointing in the right direction. 

“Akron Prep plays a Cover One defense. That means even if Noah gets past the corner covering him,” she says, moving her finger again towards the player lined up directly across from Noah, “he’s going to be waiting in the deep middle of the field to intercept the pass. That’s why Finn threw to the outside. The corner is going to expect it, so Noah should attack his inside leverage and then break outside to shake him. That’s probably what Finn’s telling him in the huddle right now.” 

Rachel’s eyes widen in that insufferably cute way they always do when something surprises her. 

“You mean you actually understand this sport?”

“Yeah, and if you ever want to actually steal Finn away from me you’d better have been paying attention. Now watch.” She gestures to the field, where the sound of Finn barking out signals is clearly audible thanks to the dead McKinley crowd. 

“Lefty lefty lefty! Omaha, omaha! Blue cheese, hut hut!“

Finn takes the snap, and on the near side of the field Noah gets it right this time. He angles his stem hard to the inside, baiting the defender into a leisurely stroll, then flips his hips in an instant to break the other way. The corner gets turned around, and it’s over. Finn’s perfect pass finds him in the end zone, and as Rachel erupts into a standing ovation as Kurt kicks the extra point - really - Quinn finds her gaze drawn to the sidelines, where Santana is leading a routine Quinn could still do in her sleep. 

“You really miss it, don’t you?” 

Quinn finally brings herself to look at Rachel, and the curiosity in her eyes is burning brighter than the old anger ever did. 

This girl is going to be the end of her. 

“I do. I know it seems small, compared to losing a home, losing my parents, but the Cheerios were my whole world. Without them, I’m just the pregnant girl who inspires pity in those too polite for schadenfreude. Which apparently includes you.” 

She tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but the way Rachel flinches makes it clear she failed. 

“I do understand, you know. About losing the thing you love the most. Not singing for even a week made my whole life feel pointless - if I had to give it up for good, I’d be a mess.”

On the one hand, it’s absurd for Rachel to think their situations are even remotely similar. But on the other hand, Quinn knows she’s right, in a perverse way. The thing Quinn always hated the most about Rachel, after all, was always how much she reminded her of herself. 

“I just feel so pathetic, you know?” So she’s baring her soul to her archnemesis. It’s not like she can lose any more of her dignity anyway. “All my life, the Good Catholic Girl. Convinced I’ve done everything right, and that it makes me better than anyone else. Head Cheerleader. Shoe-in for Prom Queen since I walked through the door. Perfect match for Finn. And head of the Celibacy Club, making sure all the lost girls can be as pure and whole as I am. All of it gone, because it was a lie the whole time.” 

“It’s not all gone.” Rachel puts a tentative hand on her shoulder, and it doesn’t even occur to Quinn to pull away. “You still have Finn. I know you asked me not to take him away, but I know now more than ever that you don’t have to worry about that. And it’s not even me you have to trust. Finn is never going to leave you.” 

Quinn can’t help the bitter laugh that erupts from her upon hearing that promise. Rachel recoils. “What did I say? What’s so funny?” 

“Look, Rachel I appreciate it. But as much as I need Finn right now, I really hope for his sake that you’re wrong. Even if I deserved him, there’s no happiness for us, not in the long term.”

She sees the look of confusion on Rachel’s face, and she decides to just say the quiet part loud.

“You know who else promised to love his cheer captain girlfriend until the end of time? Will Schuester. That’s what’s waiting for us, even if we make it through this pregnancy. Sure, we’ll both settle down with someone eventually, we both fit the type too well. But we’re Lima Losers, through and through. Not like you.” 

She can’t bear to look at Rachel’s eyes anymore, so she turns her gaze toward the starry night sky. It doesn’t help.

“No.” The quiet ferocity in the single syllable knocks her back to Earth. 

“What?” 

“First of all, Finn is my friend, and he happens to be extremely talented. So don’t talk about him like that. And second, you need to stop beating yourself up for something that isn’t your fault. The people who would punish you for caring - they’re the only ones to blame.” 

Quinn doesn’t think she’ll ever understand Rachel, but she’s slowly finding herself looking forward to trying to find out anyway. “Anything else, Captain?” 

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Quinn could swear Rachel actually blushes. 

“Just that, if I understood you correctly and I’m somehow living in an alternate universe where you think being like me is a good thing… then I’d say we’re more alike than you think.”

At that, the stadium lights cut out, enveloping them in darkness. Rachel yelps and grabs Quinn’s arm like a startled koala, which is probably the cutest thing she’s ever done. 

Not that Quinn keeps track of those.

“What’s happening? Is there a power outage? How are they going to see the ball?” 

Quinn laughs, and this time it’s genuine, which feels quite good. “Rachel, the grounds crew turned the lights off because the game ended half an hour ago. We’re the only ones left.”

_***_

Santana has survived all this time by knowing when to play it safe and when to go in for the kill. And that’s always meant playing it safe around Coach Sylvester.

Watching Quinn get discarded and thrown off the top of the social ladder without a second thought has made weighing those risks a lot more difficult. Because Quinn was the girl who always looked out for her and Britt because no one would try to cross her to get to them, the one who did everything exactly right and whose control of her own image was unbreakable. The shattering of that illusion has shown Santana exactly what’s in store for her if she slips up. 

But she thinks back to movie night, how she and Britt were able to make Quinn genuinely happy for a few hours for the first time in ages. And all the movie nights before that, when Quinn didn’t need their help and it was just the two of them, their hands always finding each other before the halfway point regardless of what was happening on screen. She thinks of how much stronger the urge has been to take Brittany’s hand in public again, and she wonders how much longer she can realistically hold out. After all, Quinn’s discipline was undefeated, until it wasn’t. 

So maybe the best move is to take the edge off Coach Sylvester’s threat to them with a strong counterattack of her own. And the skills she’s developed under Coach Sylvester’s espionage program have provided the perfect opportunity to level the playing field. 

“Well, if it isn’t de-aged Madeline Albright and the Dominican reincarnation of J. Edgar Hoover. How may I help you ladies?” 

Santana takes a deep breath. She knows she can do this. Sure, Coach Sylvester is in a different league, but the strategy of a good power play remains the same. She squares her shoulders, looks her straight in the eye, and delivers her proposition with all the confidence she can muster.

“The New Directions will face competition at Sectionals that knows exactly what's coming, thanks to us. And we’ve decided that such an impressive contribution to your cause and the enormous risk we took to accomplish it demands more active compensation than just a cessation of threats.”

Coach takes off her sunglasses and narrows her eyes. “The idea that you have any kind of power to be making demands in this situation is the best joke I’ve heard in years, but I’m curious enough about what you could possibly be so desperate for that I’ll allow you to continue.” 

Still alive, then. Santana looks at Brittany, who nods with a fierce determination. They’ve got this. 

“You’re going to fund the inclusion of the New Directions in the yearbook. In full,” says Santana. 

“You’re going to give up one of the Cheerios’ six pages to do it,” says Brittany. 

“And if you don’t,” Santana begins…

“We’ll leak the black book of under-the-table financial transactions you’ve been keeping for the past twelve years to Principal Figgins,” they finish together. 

Just like they rehearsed, and when Britt offers a high five, Santana can’t resist taking it. She turns back to Coach Sylvester and delivers one last shot for good measure. 

“So unless you feel like explaining to the administration how those monthly payments of thousands of dollars into your bank account from Oliver North are benefitting the students of McKinley High, I suggest you graciously agree to our very reasonable request.” 

The room is silent for far too long, and Santana holds her breath. She’s ninety-nine percent sure she didn’t overplay her hand, but if she misread the situation things could get ugly very quickly. 

Coach Sylvester leans back in her chair. “Brittana, that was the best display of Cheerios character I’ve seen from you all year. In fact, I’m so impressed by the progress you’ve made in being ruthless Machiavellian harpies that I am going to refrain from any number of potential acts of counterinsurgency that would leave your futures as dead as the small animals Will Schuester uses to replenish his hair.”

The dread of impending disaster disappears in an instant. They actually did it. 

“Though I must say, I’m disappointed that you’re using leverage this valuable to extract such a meaningless concession. You could get almost anything out of me, and you bargain for an easily defaceable yearbook photo for a club you’ve already primed for destruction? I can’t say I follow your calculations.” 

The counterpunch is easy. Santana knows she has the upper hand now. “I think it’s your calculations that need a little work, Coach. This isn’t the kind of blackmail that’s a one-time thing. We all know what we know, and if you try to retaliate, there’s nothing stopping us from exposing your racket at any time.” 

She takes Brittany’s hand, emboldened by the power trip of outmaneuvering Sue Sylvester herself. “And besides, we’re doing this to help someone we care about. If Quinn isn’t going to be in the yearbook with us as a Cheerio, we’ll be in it with her as the New Directions. So maybe take advantage of this reprieve to consider how you want to treat people you profess to care about, and whether there are any mistakes this year you might want to correct. Because it would be a real shame if your lack of loyalty to your most valuable charges somehow caused you to lose your first national championship in six years. Or your coaching position, for that matter.” Just one thing left: prevent her from getting the last word. “Think about it. We’ll see you at practice, Coach.” 

And with that, just like they practiced, she and Brittany turn on a dime and walk out of Coach Sylvester’s office in perfect sync, leaving the matriarch of the Cheerios behind to glower at empty air, and head toward the choir room to prepare to be champions once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: As mediocre as this episode was, it's also the episode we think had Matthew Morrison's best display of acting in the entire show (when Will found out Terri wasn't actually pregnant). Too bad it can't compensate for everything else Will does.


	13. Sectionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: The production of McKinley High's yearbook started but the Glee Club couldn't afford more than half a page, so only two of the members could be photographed. Rachel was chosen to be one of them and she had trouble finding her co-captain. Thankfully Santana blackmailed Sue into giving the New Directions a full page in the yearbook as well as getting her off their back. At least for a little while. Things are tense in the Hudson household because Quinn's living with them now and she's worried that things will become too much to handle soon.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally here, season one's mid-season finale. Thank you guys for sticking with us. Thirteen chapters and we still can't believe we're doing this.
> 
> It's all-or-nothing now.
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Mercedes can feel the heat of the spotlights on her face. This is her moment. The audience is silent for a beat. If she didn’t just hit every note of _And I’m Telling You I’m Not Going_ perfectly, the New Directions will lose Sectionals. She takes a deep breath.

“That was amazing!” cheer Kurt and Artie, rushing over to embrace her.

She opens her eyes and she’s back in the choir room. 

“I don’t know why you even thought you needed to rehearse that. You had it perfect the very first time you sang it,” assures Artie, reaching up to pat Mercedes on the shoulder.

“Thanks guys. I know in my head that it’s good enough, but it helps my nerves a little to practice this with you guys. I really want to make sure there’s not a single pitchy note in the whole thing so the judges have no choice but to give us the win. That is, assuming you two can pull your weight with the other two numbers.”

Kurt puts a hand over his heart in mock offense. When he drops it, Mercedes notices that he’s ruffled some of the sequins on his gold top. “I’ll have you know that I have never once fudged a note in my entire life.”

That gets a laugh out of all three of them.

“Artie, do you want to go over the choreo for _Proud Mary_ one more time?” Mercedes asks.

“No, I think I can remember, roll over here, roll over there, spin around. Maybe do something with your arms. What about you?”

“No, I think I’ve had enough for today. Wanna head out?”

“My mom won’t be here for another fifteen minutes, at least, so I think I’ll just chill in here.” says Artie, locking her wheels and pulling a book out of her bag.

“Cool if we wait with you?” asks Kurt, sitting himself down in the chair next to Artie before she even nods her head. Glee has definitely taken a lot of roles in Mercedes’ life, but she’ll always be the most grateful for this. She and Artie have been close forever, and the three of them were always friends, but she knows that without Glee they never would have become the trio that they are now, able to read each other seamlessly, always aware of when to criticize and when to praise.

“There’s something I think I need to tell you guys.” Kurt and Artie both snap their heads to her at her tone. She shifts awkwardly, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. “It’s not really my business, but you know how I feel about lying, and I just don’t know if I can carry this burden on my own, and I trust you two to keep it a secret… ”

“The suspense is killing me, Mercedes. What is it?” deadpans Artie, leaning forward a little and closing her book.

“So, you know how Puck was my partner for the ballads three weeks ago?”

“Yeah, you sang that cute love song. You two actually sounded pretty good together,” says Kurt.

Mercedes walks over to the chairs and sits down heavily. “Well, he told me something, while we were rehearsing… He told me that Finn’s not the one who got Quinn pregnant. He is.”

She waits for either of them to say anything, but they both seem too shell-shocked. The sound of slow clapping makes them all jerk around to look at the door.

“Well, isn’t that sweet? Listen, Effie White. I don’t care what that half-wit wannabe told you. Q wouldn’t make a decision that stupid. And even if she did, it’s none of your damn business. So here’s what the three of you losers are gonna do. You’re gonna keep my best friend’s name out of your good-for-nothing mouths, and you’re going to learn, for once in your lives, how to actually shut up, because if Berry finds out about this, she’ll tell Finn, and I will personally destroy each and every one of you pathetic nobodies.”

“Aw, Santana, you’re so pretty when you’re being all overprotective like that,” coos Brittany.

“Yeah, Santana, even I can see right through that, but it’s sweet that you care so much,” agrees Kurt. “I think we can all agree that Rachel can never know this. It’s not our business to go against Quinn’s wishes, and Rachel just wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“Agreed,” says Artie, “My lips are sealed.”

_***_

Rachel can’t help but notice how Noah has been hovering over Quinn ever since she started complaining that her stomach hurt at the beginning of rehearsal. She assured them all that it was perfectly normal and that she just needed to sit down for a while, but of course Finn freaked out. What’s weird is that Noah did too. Is he just concerned for his best friend’s kid? Somehow, Rachel doubts that.

Quinn starts snapping at the two of them to just let it be and give her some space, and Rachel takes the chance to approach everyone else. “Do any of you think it’s weird how Puck is freaking out so much over Quinn?”

Lauren shakes her head. “Nothing happens in this choir room without my knowledge. I’d let you know if something was up.” Everyone turns to stare at her. Honestly, sometimes Rachel forgets Lauren is a part of this club. 

Before Rachel can even begin to unpack what Lauren even just said, Quinn is back on her feet. “Being back on my feet is definitely better than dealing with those melodramatic idiots. Let’s just get back to rehearsal.”

Rachel figures it’s in her best interest to just drop it there, and sing her way through _Don’t Stop Believin’ _a few more times before Sectionals.__

__As soon as Mr. Schue dismisses them, Rachel rushes after Kurt, already on his way out the door. “Kurt!” She grabs him by the sleeve of his second-hand leather jacket, “Tell me you don’t think it’s just a little suspicious that Puck was completely fawning over Quinn during rehearsal.”_ _

__“I don’t think it’s suspicious that Puck, despite his idiocy, clearly cares about and is protective of his friends.” Rachel gives him a flat look. “Come on, seriously Rachel. I don’t know what you think you’re getting at, but this is just a little bit ridiculous, don’t you think?” he asks. He pulls at his collar and spins away to run after Mercedes._ _

__Rachel will be the first to admit that she hasn’t known Kurt for long. He’s certainly still an enigma in a lot of ways, but there’s one thing she does know. He would never stretch out the collar of his vintage top if he were thinking clearly. He’s lying. Something’s up._ _

__Trying to fit the puzzle pieces together in her head, Rachel heads back to the choir room to grab her bag._ _

__“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses Quinn, and Rachel freezes just outside of the doorway. “The last thing I need right now is you getting all freaked out about me and the baby.”_ _

__“Well, excuse me for caring about you,” snaps Noah. Wait, what?_ _

__“You and I both know that’s not what this is about. You need to tone it down right now before people start figuring things out. Brittany already made a comment about it the other day. I have no idea how she found out, but if she starts telling people, it’s over.”_ _

__“I mean, people already think you’re a slut, what’s it matter who you actually did the nasty with?”_ _

__Rachel claps her hand over her mouth to keep from gasping out loud and runs down the hallway to hide in the bathroom until the choir room is empty again. She doesn’t want to believe all of the puzzle pieces swirling around in her head mean what she thinks they do, but she knows that at this point she has no choice but to tell Finn.__

***

Puck can’t breathe. Literally. Finn has one hand wrapped around his windpipe and is driving his other into his stomach. Puck tries to get a hand up to pry Finn’s off of him, but Finn slams him to the ground, and yeah, that’s gonna leave a goose egg. Luckily, the fall dislodged Finn’s hand from around his neck. He reaches up and grabs a chunk of Finn’s hair to try to rip him off, but Finn just punches him in the face. He feels his lip split, and his head cracks back against the linoleum again. Finn pulls back his fist to hit Puck again, and someone catches it in mid-air.

“Get off of him! Hey! Come on, knock it off!” Mr. Schue yells, pulling Finn off of him. He goes to take a few swings for himself, but Mercedes and Santana are there holding him back by either arm while the rest of the club watches on in horror. 

__“Tell the truth!” screams Finn. He had yelled that when he first came in, but Puck hadn’t even had time to react before a fist had been thrown at his ribs._ _

__“Finn what’s going on?” asks Quinn, taking a cautious step forward._ _

__“I want to hear it from you,” says Finn. His voice cracks, and Puck forgets to be angry. “I want to hear it from both of you!” he yells, and Puck presses back against Mercedes and Santana at the pure, unfiltered rage in his voice._ _

__“Finn, I need you to calm down,” urges Mr. Schue. He’s still holding Finn back, but his grip is loose enough that Finn could probably break loose if he really wanted to._ _

__“Just tell me the truth. I- I need to know.” He looks at Quinn with huge eyes and Puck knows that if he turns that look on him he’ll have no choice but to confess._ _

__Apparently, Quinn feels the same way because her whole body seems to cave into itself as she whispers, “Yes. It’s true. Noah’s the father.”_ _

__Lauren gasps dramatically and everyone in the room stops to spare her a dirty look before eyes get locked back on the scene in front of them._ _

__“So, what? All of that crap about the hot tub was just lies?”_ _

__Puck has to bite back a snarky comment there. Finn had been stupid enough to buy it, but his head is aching right now, and he doubts it’s just because of the hits he took. Quinn begins sobbing. “I’m so sorry,” she manages to choke out as her whole body heaves with the effort to stay standing. Puck longs to run to her, but Mercedes and Santana still have his arms in vice-like grips._ _

__“Screw this.” Finn glares back and forth from Quinn to Puck. “I’m done with you. It's over.”_ _

His arms are released as Finn breaks free of Mr. Schue’s arms and storms out of the room.

_***_

Rachel knows she did the right thing. She has to have done the right thing. What if she did the wrong thing? Was it her place to get involved? She shakes her head. She had to tell Finn. He deserves the truth. Still, she can’t shake the guilt that’s pooling in her stomach. Still, she has a bus to Sectionals to catch, and she can't have this affecting her performance, so she figures she'd better clear the water now before they leave.

“Quinn,” she says cautiously, watching carefully for any negative reactions. “Can I talk to you?” 

__Quinn doesn’t even look up from the red hair ribbon she’s twisting around her fingers. “Go right ahead.”_ _

__“Quinn, I’m just so sorry. I- I don’t know if I did the right thing, but I-”_ _

__“No,” says Quinn. She still won’t look up at Rachel. "You were right to tell. Finn deserves the truth. And now he has it. You did for him what I wasn't strong enough to."_ _

__"Oh, it's so great to hear you say that, because I was really worried I had ruined anything between is, and I really value you as fr-"_ _

__"I'm sorry," Quinn interrupts, finally looking up at Rachel. "I'm grateful for what you did for Finn. Really, I am. But I can't forgive what you did to me."_ _

__Rachel takes an abortive step forward. "Quinn-"_ _

__"No, Rachel. It's over. I'm done. I'm not quitting the Glee Club or anything, but whatever approximation of a friendship we had is gone. You ruined my life, Rachel."_ _

__There isn't really a response to that, so she just steps back and rejoins the rest of the group waiting outside for the bus. She pulls her coat tighter around her, but she doesn't think it's because of the wind biting at her from all sides._ _

__"Okay, guys. Gather round!" Mr. Schue calls as the bus begins to pull its way through the parking lot up to the curb. His smile falters halfway through the headcount. "Where's Finn? Has anyone seen him?"_ _

__Everyone shakes their heads, and Rachel starts exchanging nervous glances with Kurt and Mercedes._ _

__"You don't think he… I mean he's coming, right?"_ _

__"He has to. He knows how much this means to all of us," says Kurt, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder._ _

__"Uh, I really don't think you guys are at the forefront of Finn's thoughts right about now." The still-healing line down the center of Noah's mouth doesn't do much to reassure Rachel._ _

__"Now, who's fault is that?" snaps Mercedes._ _

__"Hey, don't yell at me." Noah holds up both hands in a placating gesture. "Berry's the one who went and opened her big mouth." He sends a piercing glare her way, and Rachel all but wilts._ _

__"It isn't Rachel's fault that you betrayed your best friend," Kurt snaps back, the hand on Rachel's shoulder now feeling more protective than anything. A quick glance at Quinn reveals that she's taken several steps back and is astutely averting her eyes._ _

"No, he's right. This is my fault, at least partially, and I'll be the one to fix it. You all get on the bus," she shouts, already running in the opposite direction. "I promise we'll meet you there."

_***_

Finn paces the empty locker room before heading over to the weights. He loads his normal set before frowning and adding another fifty pounds. He knows he shouldn’t be testing himself without a spotter, but he really needs the distraction right now.

He almost drops the bar when Rachel walks in. “How’d you know I was in here?”

__“I called your mom.” He doesn’t even question how she got his mom’s number, or why she decided to tell Rachel where he was._ _

__“Shouldn’t you be on the bus on your way to Sectionals by now?”_ _

__“You know we can’t go without you.”_ _

__“Just find a warm body to stand in the background and sway,” grunts Finn, returning to his set._ _

__“So that’s it? You quit, just like that?” Rachel snaps. Maybe so has a right to be angry with Finn, but he has just as much right to be angry with everyone else._ _

__“I can’t be around them right now, and I figured you of all people might understand that. Why does it always have to come down to me? Why do I always have to be the bigger man?”_ _

__“Because sometimes being special… sucks.” Rachel seems to slump into herself there. Finn had always assumed that Rachel loved being special, being different, and when he said as much, she just seemed to slump even more. “I do, but… it’s hard, having so many people counting on you. I think, maybe, subconsciously, that’s part of the reason I gave Mercedes the solo. Not that she didn’t otherwise deserve it, but it was almost a relief, in a way. I just… I get not wanting others to be relying on you constantly. But I also know that all of the hard work I’ve put into getting to this point is infinitely more important than anything else I might be feeling right now, because, like it or not, I am special, and there are people relying on me, and I left them to be here with you, so it’s your choice now, whether or not you want to be there for them. Me? I’m going to go find us a ride. I’ll wait for you for fifteen minutes, but after that, I need to go.” She spins and storms out, leaving him to his thoughts._ _

__She has a point, maybe. Finn shakes his head. She gave him fifteen minutes, and he’s still all sweaty and gross from his shower. He takes off at a run towards the showers before he even realizes that he had already made up his mind before Rachel even left the room._ _

__By the time he makes it outside, Rachel is already in a rusty 2002 BMW 7 Series. When he opens the passenger door and gets in, he sees that she’s laid down what looks like half a roll of paper towels on the seat and over the steering wheel. “Where’d you get the car?”_ _

__“Ugh, don’t ask.” At his dubious glance, she sighs. “It’s that gross reporter kid’s. I traded him something for it.”_ _

__“What did you give him?” Finn asks cautiously as Rachel pulls them out of the parking lot._ _

__She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, which makes Finn grip his seat belt hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He’s not the biggest fan of cars, especially when the person driving isn’t even paying attention to the road. “I, uh, I promised him a kiss.”_ _

__“You kissed him?” Finn almost yells._ _

__“No! No, no ew! I promised to kiss his car keys, I’m going to have to boil my lips afterward, but at least we’re on our way.”_ _

__“What were you going to do if I didn’t show up?” he asks, figuring the conversation will distract him from the way Rachel is swerving in and out of lanes to speed around the other cars on the highway._ _

“I didn’t bother planning for that. I know you. You wouldn’t abandon us like that.”

_***_

Rachel grabs Finn’s hand and all but drags him into the green room where the rest of the New Directions are waiting with their costumes the second she’s able to find a parking spot. Her hands tremble as she changes out faster than she ever has before, and the second she has her dress zipped up, she’s back in the green room. “What’s the news?” she breathlessly asks Kurt, hoping she has at least a few minutes between now and when she’ll have to perform. Kurt looks at her with sympathy in his eyes and a grave expression on his face. “What? What’s wrong? We didn’t miss the performance, did we? I’m sure if we just explain- ” 

__“You didn’t miss the performance. The Golden Goblets are only about halfway through their set, and we go last.”_ _

__“So, what’s the problem?”_ _

__“Somehow, the other teams got ahold of our setlist. The Hipsters already did And _I’m Telling You I’m Not Going_ and _Proud Mary._ The Golden Goblets opened with _Don’t Stop Believin’._ ”_ _

__Rachel feels the floor start to tip out from underneath her. She can’t breathe. She can’t think. This can’t be happening. It can’t have all been for nothing._ _

__“Rachel, we’re gonna need you to breathe,” says Mercedes, reaching out to hold Rachel’s hands in her own. “We’ve had some time to figure out what to do, and we think we have the beginnings of a plan.”_ _

__“Okay,” Rachel takes a deep breath and shifts back into go mode. Mercedes says everything's going to be fine. That means she must have a backup. “Walk me through it. What’s the ballad going to be?”_ _

__“Rachel, I have other songs in my repertoire, but whatever I can plan just won’t be as good as what I know you’ll have up your sleeve.” Mercedes gives her hands a gentle squeeze, and Rachel feels tears start to form in her eyes. She can’t go getting congested right now, so she blinks them back and focuses on what she does best._ _

__“Are you sure? We agreed…”_ _

__“I know, but at the end of the day your repertoire is bigger and more polished than mine, and I know that you can belt out a winner on the fly better than any of the rest of us can.”_ _

__“I mean, I do have a little something that I’ve been working on basically since I could talk.”_ _

__“That’s what I thought you’d say, girl!” Mercedes gives her a wry smile and a high five._ _

__“I um... “ starts Quinn, taking a shy step forward, her head still bowed and her eyes refusing to meet anyone else’s in the room. Rachel wonders if she’s been like this the whole time, or if it was the arrival of Finn that prompted this. “I think we should do _Lean On Me._ It lets Artie and Mercedes keep the leads they would have had if we did _Proud Mary_ and, uh, I mean, I might be a little biased but I thought it was one of the pieces we’ve done.”_ _

__Mercedes goes over to put her arms around Quinn and Artie is quick to join. “That sounds like a great idea.”_ _

__“Yeah, we’ll have those judges in straight tears by the end,” Artie enthuses, looking up at Quinn with a huge grin._ _

__“What about the last song?” asks Kurt._ _

__“We’ll need something fun and upbeat to finish off the set,” adds Finn. “I’ve got an idea, but it might be a bit rough. Brittany, do you think you could mash up a bunch of old choreography from our other performances, so it’s not too tough to learn?”_ _

__“Sure, but what’s the song?”_ _

__“Rachel and I were singing along to it on the radio on the way here. It’s a real crowd-pleaser, and everyone should know it.” He names a pop song that everyone in the group definitely knows all the words to, and that is easily danceable enough for some improvised choreography._ _

__“Oh, Finn, I love it!” squeals Rachel. “That’s a full setlist! We might actually have this!”_ _

__“Not if we don’t start rehearsing like right now. Brittany?”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m almost done.” Brittany has her eyes squeezed shut, and keeps making little twitchy movements with her hands and feet. Her eyes pop open right as she yells, “Done! Everyone gather around, quick!”_ _

__It’s not nearly as polished as Rachel would like by the time they’re called up to perform, but she has high hopes. She waves and blows kisses to her teammates as she splits up with them to walk to the back of the auditorium. She had asked if a spotlight could be trained on her as she headed toward the stage, but the light tech had just glared at her until she backed off. Still, she figures the effect of entering from the back will be dramatic enough. She steals her nerves, closes her eyes, and steps through the doors right as the opening notes start to play.__

_“Don't tell me not to live  
Just sit and putter  
Life's candy and the sun's  
A ball of butter  
Don't bring around a cloud  
To rain on my parade”_

The audience slowly turns to see where the source of the voice echoing throughout the auditorium is coming from. Rachel sweeps her eyes around the audience, making eye contact with as many people as she can. She slowly begins making her way towards the stage as she continues to belt as powerfully as she can.

_“Don't tell me not to fly  
I've simply got to  
If someone takes a spill  
It's me and not you  
Who told you you're allowed  
To rain on my parade”_

By the time she finishes the second verse, she’s reached the stage, and she spreads her arms to welcome the rest of the New Directions on stage as she jumps into the grand finale.

_“I'll march my band out  
I will beat my drum  
And if I'm fanned out  
Your turn at bat, sir  
At least I didn't fake it  
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it  
Get ready for me, love  
'Cause I'm a commer  
I simply gotta march  
My heart's a drummer  
Nobody, no, nobody  
Is gonna rain on my parade”_

The audience erupts into a standing ovation as Rachel stands panting with her arms outstretched. She can feel her friends’ grins behind her, and they wait almost a full minute before the applause dies down enough to launch into _Lean On Me._

__Artie moves to take Rachel’s place at the front of the stage, and the group begins to hum before Artie croons out in her sweet alto voice.__

_“Sometimes in our lives we all have pain  
We all have sorrow  
But if we are wise  
We know that there's always tomorrow”_

Mercedes steps forward to join Artie in the front as the rest of the group begins bobbing and weaving through each other in a way that isn’t necessarily impressive but certainly looks nice. Mercedes’ and Artie’s powerful voices and harmonies should be more than enough to make up for what the choreography lacks.

_“Please swallow your pride  
If I have things you need to borrow  
For no one can fill those of your needs  
That you won't let show”_

Hand in hand, the group moves forward to join in on the final chorus, leaning back and forth against each other in a swaying motion that shows off their synchronicity even if it isn’t the flashiest move in the world. It combines nicely with their harmonizing rounds as they each finish off the number with as much power as they can.

_“You just call on me brother, when you need a hand  
We all need somebody to lean on  
I just might have a problem that you'll understand  
We all need somebody to lean on”_

Mercedes’ high note once again brings the performance to a brief stand-still as they wait for the applause to die down. Their final number will by far be their riskiest. They’ve barely rehearsed, and the harmonies will be more or less improvised, but Rachel has watched this group grow over the last few months. They can read and anticipate each other. They’ve got this.

__Everyone lines up facing upstage with Rachel in the front, but to the end of the line. They begin to bob their hips as they open with an acapella bit. As Rachel moves down the line, each member spins to face the audience in a dramatic sweep.__

  
_“Guess this means you're sorry  
You're standing at my door  
Guess this means you take back  
All you said before”_

__

__

The boys all move to the front in an homage to the square dancing number from Artie’s performance of _Last Name_ as the opening verse continues.

_“Like how much you wanted  
Anyone but me  
Said you'd never come back  
But here you are again”_

Brittany, Kurt, and Mercedes move to the front for a snippet of their _Single Ladies_ routine before Brittany runs over to join Quinn and Santana for a throwback to their audition as the whole choir belts out the chorus.

_“'Cause we belong together now, yeah_  
_Forever united here somehow, yeah_  
_You got a piece of me_  
_And honestly_  
_My life would suck without you”_

The boys pump their fists in the air and the girls form halos over each other’s heads like they did the week of the mash-up performances as the second verse plays on. The chorus repeats twice more as the entire club moves together rehashing their favorite pieces from the last semester’s worth of choreo and despite the lack of polish or cohesion, it’s fun and it’s real, and there’s an energy that Rachel has never felt before in all of her years of performance. This is her family, and as broken as they may be, this is what they can accomplish when they work together, and the grin on her face as she holds her final pose is so wide that it hurts.

_***_

Quinn stands with her team, holding hands with Brittany on one side and Santana on the other. They’ve carefully placed her as far from Finn as they can get in the tight knot their team has formed, framed on either side by Jane Addams and Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. Artie is the only one off to the side. She seems to be talking in sign language to one of the Jane Adams girls.

Everyone goes silent, and Quinn can feel every shoulder on stage tense as the judges come out with the results. Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow comes in third and the tension impossibly increases as the judges prepare to announce first place. She grasps her friends’ hands tighter as the announcer pauses before announcing… their win! They’ve won! They’ve done it!

__Everything Quinn has lost in the past few months is pushed aside for one brief, precious second as she jumps and squeals with the rest of the New Directions. They’re going to Regionals!_ _

__As with all good things in her life, it doesn’t last long. “Can I talk to you?” Noah places a tentative hand on her upper arm, and Quinn, the coward that she’s become doesn’t even shake it off. She just directs a level gaze his way and waits for him to speak. “I just, I just wanted to let you know that you’re welcome to stay with my mom and I, now that… you know. I just figured you’d need a place to stay.”_ _

__“Get out of here, Puck. We’re supposed to be celebrating.” Santana swoops in to rescue Quinn when she sees the look on her face, and Quinn is instantly grateful. “What did he want?” Santana jabs her thumb in his general direction._ _

__“Uh, he just offered me a place to stay.” Quinn rubs her arm self-consciously._ _

__“You’re not seriously considering that are you? You know I’ll take you in a heartbeat. Britt, too.”_ _

__“I know. Thank you.” Quinn tries to keep her voice even. She knows she can’t stay with Santana or Britt. She just can’t be that kind of burden on their lives, on their parents’ lives. It’s not fair. But, can she face going home with Noah? She knows she doesn’t love him. But who else can she ask to take her in? She has nowhere else to turn, and this is partly his fault, after all. Around her, the New Directions are still cheering and jumping and whooping, and Quinn squares her shoulders and swallows her pride and marches over to where Noah stands with Mercedes and Kurt._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The canon setlist was Don't Rain On My Parade, You Can't Always Get What You Want, and Somebody To Love.
> 
> Somebody To Love wasn't even featured in the episode, so we changed it to My Life Would Suck Without You since we loved the "past-choreo" gimmick. Lean On Me was used instead of You Can't Always Get What You Want since we wanted to keep an Artcedes duet after they lost Proud Mary.
> 
> The next chapter (Hell-O) might come out a little later than usual, since it is the 'new start' to the season, but believe when we say that it'll be worth the wait.


	14. Hell-O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: The club finally found out the real father of Quinn’s baby and they almost lost Sectionals because of it, but that wasn’t the only problem they had. The other teams somehow got their setlist and performed it before the New Directions could stop them. Thankfully Rachel managed to get out of her funk at the last second and landed them a win by singing Don’t Rain On My Parade (along with the help of Finn). Quinn’s now officially broken up with Finn and is living with Puck, who finally gets his shot at proving to Quinn that he can be a good dad.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope everyone is doing okay and staying safe. Here’s Hell-O, the beginning of Act II and the debut of a certain someone the Glee Club isn’t getting rid of anytime soon.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

Yes, Rachel Berry is a Sectionals champion and yes, she will definitely stop for autographs.

No one wants to admit it, but Rachel knows that everyone in the Glee Club has her to thank for their win. Not that they couldn’t have done it with just Mercedes. Rachel wholeheartedly believes that they would have steamrolled the competition just fine with their very own Aretha Franklin, but now Rachel’s seemingly endless repertoire she’s built up over the years will have the recognition it deserves.

Of course, it was always going to be _Don’t Rain On My Parade,_ the song she’s cultivated to perfection ever since her first viewing of Funny Girl. She can still hear the chords, and the applause that came with it, as she steps into the choir room.

And there he is, McKinley High’s golden boy. Smiling at _her_ in a way that can’t be interpreted as anything but admiration.

They’re not dating yet. Finn’s still too vulnerable after his breakup with Quinn, and Rachel recognizes that, but she still pulls a chair up next to him. “Well,” she starts, “how do you feel about your newfound stardom?”

Finn shrugs. “I feel ‘bout the same as I did before. It’s great seeing you all happy though.”

She sure is. Although, there is one thing that’s been nagging her.

Mr. Schue told them all about it the day after they won Sectionals; Principal Figgins is still threatening to shut them down. To strip the choir room clean and rip their spread out of McKinley High’s yearbooks. None of them took it seriously - they were still on the high of a competition win - but now that they’ve settled back into their old routine, all of them are uncomfortably aware of how easily it can all come crashing down.

“I’m proud of you all for that amazing performance at Sectionals,” Mr. Schue says as Kurt takes the seat next to her. He smiles and gestures towards Rachel. “And while I think everyone did fantastic, I have to give special recognition to Rachel, who pulled out a showstopper as our opening number.”

Finn whoops as the rest of the club claps. And while Rachel’s heart nearly burst with emotion at the roar of applause she was given after _Don’t Rain On My Parade,_ she has to admit that nothing feels better than hearing appreciation come from her newfound family. And she can’t help it. She stands, turns toward the other club members, and gives them a modest bow.

As she comes up, her eyes latch on to Quinn. Quinn, who is giving her an earnest yet tight smile, sitting next to Noah with his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

“As you know, we are once again facing the threat of this club being disbanded,” Mr. Schue says as Rachel sits back down. “It looks like a Sectionals win wasn’t enough. Now we have to prove ourselves worthy of staying together by winning Regionals. So I pose to you, what about this club was different from where we first started to now, with a trophy sitting on our piano?”

“We have more people now?” Mercedes suggests.

Artie tries, “We’re better at working together?”

“Through multiple practices, we were able to figure out which of our voices went together - let me speak Rachel - and how we could combine that with our knowledge of dynamics to get us the harmonies needed to take our performances over the top,” Kurt says.

“The ghosts haunting the choir room are gone,” Brittany whispers.

“Artie’s right,” Mr. Schue says, prompting the club to give more applause. Something’s changed about him but Rachel can’t quite figure out what. He’s happier, she supposes. “What I saw at Sectionals was everyone putting aside their differences and working together as a team. I’m especially proud of Finn and Puck, who were able to put the team first despite the difficult situation they were put in.”

Finn frowns, and Noah’s face twists into a scowl. Rachel had hoped, fruitlessly, that the topic would never breach the choir room ever again. The air becomes stilted for a moment, and just when it feels like they’re about to move on, Quinn pipes up.

“The difficult situation _they_ were put in?”

Noah pulls her in closer and tries to shush her but Quinn isn’t having it. The pain and vulnerability Rachel’s seen from her ever since people found out about her pregnancy are gone. Now all she sees are walls. Walls behind her eyes and walls behind her words.

Mr. Schue doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the room. “Yes, and I’m proud of you too Quinn. I know this year’s been hard for you, given your unfortunate situation-”

“Unfortunate,” Quinn whispers fiercely. “You give praise to the two people whose lives are unchanged but not to the girl who’s decided to stay and perform at Sectionals despite being disowned and abandoned by people she thought would be by her side no matter what.”

Finn stiffens, his shoulders taut and eyes decidedly nowhere near Quinn. None of this is Finn’s fault and everyone in the room knows it.

Of course, Rachel still feels guilty about telling Finn the truth. She put their Sectionals win on the line and severed whatever semblance of friendship she had with Quinn. _You’ve ruined my life, Rachel._ The words still reverberate in her head. The image of Quinn, miserable but resigned, as she said it to her refuses to go away. But she knows she did the right thing, and after everything Finn’s been through, Quinn being angry at Finn for deciding to leave her is too much.

Kurt must see Rachel’s temper rise because he places a hand on her knee. Thankfully for him, Noah speaks up before Rachel has the chance to. “Babe, calm down.”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps.

Mr. Schue claps his hands together. “Enough- “

“Yeah?” Noah says. There’s a tightness to his voice that only becomes more apparent when he says, “Did you talk to Finn like this?”

“Keep me out of this,” Finn warns. 

“No, I didn’t.” Quinn says, narrowing her eyes at Finn, “but maybe I should have. There were so many things I wish I had said. All the times I could tell he wasn’t listening to me because he was too busy paying attention to someone else.”

Rachel smacks Kurt’s hand off her knee. After all this time, she still thinks Rachel’s the root of all her problems. Rachel should have known. It was never going to work out between them, and the sad thing? She believed it, which is what made Quinn’s words that much more painful. _You’ve ruined my life, Rachel._

No she hasn’t.

Rachel strides to the front of the room, ignoring Mr. Schue’s command to sit down. “It looks like we all have some unspoken words we regret not saying. I know I do, and like most problems we’ve encountered in the choir room, I suggest we get that horrible feeling out through song. If it’s alright with you guys, I’d like to go first.”

It’s a superficial question. No one’s going to challenge her here. Blood roaring in her ears, Rachel whispers to Brad the name of the first song that came to her after hearing Quinn berate Finn.

Brad nods towards the jazz band to join him as Rachel dons the biggest smile she can muster.

__

_"I wake up every evening  
With a big smile on my face  
And it never feels out of place"_

She steps up the risers and places her hands on her hips, looking at no one in particular.

__

_"And you're still probably working  
At a nine to five pace"_

Rachel walks behind Santana, who ducks her head. Okay, she’ll admit it. She’s trying to make her way towards Quinn. 

__

_"I wonder how bad that tastes"_

Quinn must have realized that as soon as the music started playing. There’s no way for her to escape though, so when Rachel’s finally in front of her, all she can do is avoid her gaze.

__

_"When you see my face  
Hope it gives you hell  
Hope it gives you hell"_

Rachel bends down, keeping her face about an inch or two away from Quinn. Her stomach flips. She can smell Quinn’s perfume. 

__

_"When you walk my way  
Hope it gives you hell  
Hope it gives you h-"_

Noah pushes her away. Not enough to hurt her, but enough to jostle her. The music stops. Rachel’s hands shake. Mr. Schue’s looking at her, his mouth agape, and Finn’s head is in his hands. Kurt looks just as embarrassed but gives her an uneasy grin when he feels her eyes on him. He shares a quick glance with Mercedes, who stands up and gestures for Brad to start the music back up.

__

_"Now where's your picket fence love  
And where's that shiny car  
And did it ever get you far?"_

Mercedes picks up right where she left off. Rachel breathes a sigh of relief and joins in as Mercedes walks over to Kurt and hugs him from behind.

__

_"You never seemed so tense love  
I've never seen you fall so hard  
Do you know where you are?"_

Kurt joins in as well, and soon everyone is singing the chorus. Brittany gets up and starts choreographing a dance as if she’s heard the song a million times. Artie, whose voice doesn’t work with the song, starts beatboxing along with the drums. Rachel calms her racing heart as Kurt grabs her hands and pulls her into the group. Singing _"If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well, then he's a fool," _Kurt winks. They both know what that means.__

____

____

She owes him one.

***

“I don’t even get a thanks for that?”

Quinn keeps walking, clutching her chemistry book so close to her chest she can barely breathe. The dog chasing her refuses to relent, however, and she turns to face him before he makes things even worse. “No, Noah. I’m not thanking you for provoking Rachel.”

“Provoking Rachel? Babe, I barely know what that means, but I’m pretty sure you’re the one who provoked her.” Quickly looking at both ends of the hallway, Noah grabs her arm and pulls her into the boys’ bathroom.

She yanks her arm out of his grasp. Normally she would comment on how gross this is and how she’s not a boy but those two things are the least of her worries.

Noah’s been treating her well enough at his house. His mother and sister mostly ignore her, which is a stark contrast to the loving smiles she got at the Hudsons. Still, it’s a place to sleep and somewhere she can eat a hot meal without feeling enough guilt to lose her appetite. She has a feeling Noah’s mom is under the impression that she’s his girlfriend, as if the scathing remarks she throws his way are a normal part of a healthy relationship. No, they aren’t dating. Not when he has a wandering eye and she still finds herself gravitating towards Finn.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice low despite them being alone, “I get it. You’re still hurting over Finn, but you need to give it up already. You really messed him up.”

She doesn’t want to throw blame around anymore. Not after everything that happened in the choir room. So she just swallows her pride and lets him keep talking.

“I’m pissed at him too. You see these?” He points to a yellowing bruise on his chin then the welt under his left eye. “You wanna know how many times I’ve wanted to do this to him in the past two weeks? I’ve kept it cool and you need to learn how to too.”

He’s right, and they both know he’s right.

“Unless you want to have a little cat-fight with Rachel. That, I approve of,” he says, grinning. “You won today, by the way. I know you needed my help but the way she stormed out of the choir room? Priceless.”

Hearing the words ‘you won’ stirs something up in Quinn she thought was long gone. There’s no competition. She isn’t fighting with Rachel for anything, not anymore, but hearing ‘you won’ in regards to Rachel? Rachel, who won everyone’s respect when Quinn lost it? Rachel, who treats Finn better than she ever can? It feels embarrassingly good.

Quinn feels a smile grow on her face. Noah’s face brightens at the sight of it. Taking his hand in hers, she tells him, “Let’s go home.”

***

Rachel doesn’t frequent Between The Sheets enough.

Lima’s only music store is very niche, rows and rows of secondhand instruments and vinyl records older than her dads. Aside from the occasional wistful thought about learning how to play the piano, Rachel’s never felt the need to pick up a pair of drumsticks.

The sheet music section has a lovely miniature organ she keeps hovering around. It looks well-loved, disregarding the fine layer of dust that it's collected. She can’t help herself. Pressing one of the keys, she smiles when a happy little note greets her back. The stand is missing some sheet music, and while Rachel won’t dare to try to actually play anything, maybe the presence of it will attract more people to come and press on the organ’s keys too. 

Picking up a book of Lionel Richie’s best hits, Rachel finds her thoughts wandering back to yesterday’s rehearsal. Finn’s been a little distant since then, and she can’t help but believe she might have made things worse for everyone. Before she can keep ruminating, Lionel Richie’s best hits gets tugged out of her hands.

She isn’t prepared for what she sees next.

“Lionel Richie, huh?”

A man she’s never seen in person but could recognize from a mile away. A man with the same face as the man on her vision board and taped to the inside of her locker. A man who looks like the star performer in the videos she’s watched over and over again until it felt like her eyes were bleeding. She takes the book back. 

A man who she’s _this_ close to swatting away like an unruly dog. Jesse St. James. 

“Oh my god. You’re Jesse St. James,” is what comes out of her mouth.

“And you’re Rachel Berry,” he says, leaning back. He has that look on his face. Rachel’s seen it before. Eyes locked onto her face like a tiger that’s about to pounce. “You know who I am. I’m touched.”

The cordiality makes her skin crawl. His speaking voice carries the same infamous vibrato that comes out tremendously when he dips into lower notes, but more subtle, softer. Years of show choir experience has led his excellent stage presence to follow him off-stage. 

“I’ve watched a few of your performances,” she says lightly.

Jesse smiles. “No doubt a fan of what you’ve seen?”

“Impressive for sure,” Rachel says.

His smile brightens. That definitely wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. “Thank you. I’ve watched your Sectionals performance.”

Rachel nearly corrects him - it was the New Directions’ Sectionals performance - but she stops herself short. He’s talking about _Don’t Rain On My Parade._ “What did you think?”

She’s not asking for validation. Jesse St. James knows how the game is played and is a holder of the coveted title of National Show Choir Champion, three times over. Seeing him outside of Carmel High is rare enough, getting to ask him for ‘advice’ is even rarer. 

“Impressive,” Jesse echoes, “but deeply flawed. You sang it as if it was a song you’ve been singing all your life, and you performed it as if you didn’t expect to perform it. My advice?” He leans forward and whispers, “Ditch the theatrics. Focus on bringing out the emotional depth Barbra’s known for.”

Before Rachel can rebuff him, he takes Lionel Richie’s best hits out of her hands again and walks over to the organ. “And stop relying on your male lead. At least, I think he’s your male lead. The tall one with two left feet. He’s easily the weakest link in your group.”

“Finn Hudson is more than capable of being my- our male lead,” she says. 

Jesse takes a seat on the organ bench, gesturing for Rachel to sit next to him. “Yeah? Have you ever sang a duet with anyone else?” 

Rachel thinks back. Plenty; Kurt, Santana, Mercedes. Quinn. With the exception of maybe Kurt, Finn’s been the most enjoyable duet partner. He compliments her performance style in every way. While Kurt, Santana, and Mercedes push her away to make room for themselves, Finn listens to her. He adjusts to her tempo. There’s a reason Mr. Schue keeps picking them to be the leads.

“Of course.”

“Have you ever sang something with a real male lead?”

“I- “

“And before you ask, no. Your countertenor doesn’t count.”

She knows what he’s doing. This is bait, and she’d be a fool to fall for it, but the temptation is too much for her to handle. “Are you requesting that I sing a duet with you?”

Jesse brushes off the sheet music she had placed on the organ prior. Placing Lionel Richie’s best hits on the piano, he gestures for her to pick a song. Any song. Rachel flips through the book quickly. There are so many great options, and she eventually settles on _Hello._

“Good choice,” Jesse says, sounding genuinely pleased, “I’ll start, unless you have any objections?”

Rachel shakes her head.

__

_“I've been alone with you inside my mind  
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times”_

It’s magical, his voice. Magnetic and electrifying, even for a song as slow and somber as Hello. He looks at her and continues to play flawlessly.

__

_“I sometimes see you pass outside my door  
Hello, is it me you're looking for?”_

He prompts her to join him in the chorus.

__

_“I can see it in your eyes  
I can see it in your smile”_

As she joins in, he softens his voice. Listening. Adjusting.

__

_“You're all I've ever wanted”_

_“And my arms are open wide,”_ he sings. Other shoppers have gathered close by. Jesse places a finger under her chin and turns her head back towards him. He smiles.

_“Cause you know just what to say,”_ Rachel sings. She smiles back at him. _“And you know just what to do.”_

***

Coach Sylvester hasn’t said anything to them since they won Sectionals.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. She only felt okay with dropping me because she knew you and Britt would stay. If she loses you two, she loses this year’s Nationals,” Quinn says from her spot on Santana’s bed.

Santana pushes her box of nail polish towards Quinn but she declines. Something about the baby. Instead, she just sits there and watches as Santana attempts to keep her cuticles clear of Essie’s ‘Rock The Runway’. 

“I know Q,” Santana says. She blows at her nails before flapping her hand around. Neither method really works but she’s a creature of habit. “I’m not worried about getting kicked off.”

That’s a lie and they both know it, but they also know Santana would never admit it. As much bravado as Santana’s shown in the face of Coach, her hands still shake at the thought of pissing her off. She remembers when Quinn got kicked off. It feels like almost an eternity ago when Brittany suggested that they quit the Cheerios. The idea of quitting was off the table for Santana at the time. She had told herself that cheering was the only way she could be a winner. 

And then she found herself walking down McKinley’s halls with one hand on a trophy - a trophy carried by the same people she betrayed only a few weeks prior - and the other slipped around Brittany’s waist. 

Santana pushes the last part of that memory away. “Enough about me. What about you? Puck giving you trouble?”

“No,” Quinn says. It’s clipped, and an obvious dismissal. Santana’s about to press further when she gets a knock on the door. 

It’s Brittany. Holding Lord Tubbington in her arms and a warm, yet charmingly faraway smile. Quinn makes room for her on the bed. Lord Tubbington slips out of Brittany’s hands and slinks away to claw up to the top of her dresser. Easily his favorite spot in Santana’s room. Quinn watches, fascinated, and Santana’s hit with the reality that Quinn hasn’t been in her room for a while.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts as Brittany grasps her hand. Eyes wide, she starts chipping away Santana’s manicure. “You shouldn’t do red. I read somewhere that the color red increases blood pressure and I like the pressure of your blood as it is now Santana.”

A shiver runs down Santana’s spine. It must be cold outside because Brittany’s hands are freezing. “Okay, what color should I do then?”

Brittany rummages through her nail polish box, looking disapprovingly at each color she pulls out. Eventually, she hands the box to Quinn and tells her to pick the color that speaks to her the most. Quinn puts her hand in the box and pulls out a bottle without looking, which gets through Brittany’s examination. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what did you think about Berry’s little stunt the other day? Unless you don’t want to talk about it.” Santana asks as Brittany takes her hand back. Brittany’s better at painting Santana’s nails than her own.

“Yes,” Quinn answers. Another dismissal. 

“Quinn.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know we’re your friends, right? If something’s bothe- “

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeats. 

Santana swallows down her own frustration. Or tries to. It’s been getting harder and harder. Quinn constantly rejecting their help feels like a stepping stone for her to eventually shut them out completely. Santana wants to bite back, to call Quinn out on her self-righteous bullshit, but she can’t. Not until this is all over.

“Can you paint my nails next Santana?” Brittany asks as she takes one last swipe at Santana’s pinky nail.

She pulls her hand away and inspects Brittany’s paint job. Flawless. “Duh. What color do you want?”

Brittany answers immediately, “I want to match with you.”

Santana grins. They’ll both have to scrub their nails clean before practice tomorrow. One of Coach’s many rules. The procedure is awful and Santana’s hands feel raw afterward, but Brittany always does it with her. As much as she doesn’t want to lose Quinn, it might be inevitable at this point, and there's comfort in knowing that Brittany will still be by her side. It’s almost enough to counteract the dread of the Unholy Trinity crumbling into dust.

***

“Hey dude. This might sound weird and stuff, but my mom wants your dad’s number.”

Out of all the things Finn’s said to him, nothing has struck this much fear into Kurt’s heart. 

“No, it’s not,” Finn says as soon as he sees Kurt’s expression. “Not for like a date or anything. There’s something wrong with her car and I don’t think I can fix it on my own.”

The sigh of relief Kurt releases is so intense it almost hurts. Not that the idea of becoming step-brothers with Finn is horribly repulsive now that they’ve gotten closer, it’s just that the idea of sharing a living space with Finn most definitely is.

Finn’s been acting strangely around him. Every time they see each other, Finn tries to start up a conversation. He’s invited Kurt to hang out with him on a few occasions, and each time is more mortifying than the last. It’s obvious that this newfound attachment is a consequence of him losing Puck, and after losing much of his credibility because of the Glee Club, Kurt’s the only ‘guy friend’ he has left.

“Walk with me,” Kurt says, closing his locker and snapping his fingers. He makes sure Finn is following him before saying, “You don’t need my dad’s personal number for a car job. The shop has its own number. I’ll only repeat it once, 51- ”

“Can’t you just text it to me?”

“I don’t have your number.”

Finn stops walking, forcing Kurt to stop as well. He pulls out his phone and taps a few buttons on the keypad. He looks at Kurt, then back at his phone, before returning to Kurt. “I never gave you my number?”

“You never found the need to,” he replies dryly. The other obvious, unspoken reason is clear. 

Finn has the decency to look at least a little ashamed. “So can I give it to you now or like... you can give me yours, or something.“

Kurt wants to laugh. Finn Hudson is asking poor, little Kurt Hummel for his number. He knows it’s out of desperation more than camaraderie. Finn and Puck haven’t been butting heads on the field like they have been in the choir room but it’s clear they don’t want anything to do with each other. Kurt chalks it up to Coach, who has been shutting down altercations before they can even get past the arguing stage.

Part of Kurt is telling him that this is bait. Finn’s phone can easily be snatched by one of the other guys and if they see Kurt’s number in his phone, the ridicule they’ve both experienced so far as a result of their tentative friendship would only get worse. Unlike most of the Glee Club, Kurt didn’t think for a single second that they had immunity from their tormentors just because they brought home a trophy. In fact, their win only brought him more fear. The more the Glee Club makes a name for itself, the more attention they attract. Good and bad.

“I would really rather just give you the shop’s number,” Kurt says, and Finn nods.

“Yeah, I understand,” he says, pocketing his phone. “Hey, are people still giving you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle myself.”

“Cool. If you, uh, if you ever need help, just say the word and I can- ”

Kurt waves off his words. “I know Finn, and I appreciate it, but you also have your own things going on. Don’t waste your time trying to help me with mine.”

Finn nods again, this time gravely. Kurt would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Finn’s sunny grin or high-octane vocals. Especially his high-octane vocals. He knows there’s nothing he can do himself to bring them back, and his biggest asset in that regard nearly destroyed herself a few days ago. 

He’s not going anywhere near that minefield. He’s walking on eggshells as it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: For the one Willma shipper we have in our audience: yes, they are together starting this chapter. St. Berry, on the other hand, is not.
> 
> As for Shelby, she is still in this fic. We’ll be seeing her soon.


	15. The Power Of Madonna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Tensions are still high in the choir room after Sectionals. Finn and Puck won’t talk to each other and both Rachel and Quinn are dealing with the aftermath of Finn and Quinn’s breakup. After a particularly bad rehearsal, Rachel went to Between The Sheets and met Jesse St. James, who quickly impressed her with his musical talent.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our first tribute episode, featuring the Queen of Pop herself; Madonna.
> 
> Seven chapters until Regionals. The Glee Club has a lot of work to do.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

_“Madonna._

_Simply saying the word aloud makes me feel powerful. How I have worshipped her, ever since I was a little girl._

_Sorry, Angie Jolie. Catherine the Great. Madonna is the most powerful woman ever to walk the face of the Earth.”_

“Um Coach? You wanted to see us?” Santana tentatively steps through the open door of the office, Brittany right behind her, both of them exchanging perplexed glances at what they just overheard.

Coach Sylvester’s pen clatters to the desk, and she quickly closes what even from across the room is clearly labeled ‘Sue’s Journal’.

“Statler. Waldorf. Come in, come in.” She seems perfectly calm for having been walked in on, which apparently makes Brittany comfortable enough to break silence, to Santana’s horror.

“Do you also record your diary as an audiobook, Coach?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Geraldine Ferraro. But what I do know is that despite you and your better half’s admirable attempts at guerilla warfare, the New Directions have emerged from Sectionals stronger than ever.”

“We didn’t know they would be able to put together a second setlist that quickly.” Santana tries to strike a balance between confidence and deference; she knows she still technically has leverage to secure her and Brit’s position, but she can’t deny that the way everything has been blowing up since Sectionals has put her on edge. “But this just sets them up to fail on an even bigger stage and make Mr. Schue’s humiliation all the more complete.”

Coach puts up her hand. “Save your triangulations, impressively cynical as they are. I don’t need you to destroy the Glee Club when William’s increasingly sickly disposition is telling me they’re on the verge of a hormone-driven radioactive meltdown all on their own. It appears that chasing Q off the team and into the pathetically empathetic arms of Will Schuester was a better Trojan Horse than you two could ever be.”

Santana’s fist clenches, but she immediately catches herself and relaxes her posture. This isn’t the time to escalate. Besides, she can’t be putting Brittany on the line anymore for someone who she might be losing anyway.  
“No, what I need is something that best positions the Cheerios to rise from the ashes,” Coach continues. “Something that will take the only thing Glee can be mistaken for being good at and make it mine. I need music. I need Madonna.”

Santana risks a glance at Brittany. Coach has had her odd moments in the past, but usually her schemes aren’t usually this out of left field. And since when did she give Glee even backhanded compliments?

“Well, I’d totally be happy to choreograph a routine, and me and Santana can sing an awesome Madonna duet,” says Brittany. “But you’ll need more than just the two of us. Madonna is so powerful that she can only be performed by two divas working together, and we only have one.”

Santana frowns. “Don’t sell yourself short. We’re just as good together as anything Hummelberry or Artcedes can deliver. And you could totally be a diva if you wanted to.”

Brittany shakes her head. “I’m a unicorn. And unicorns don’t count toward Madonna qualification.”

Santana thinks she’d like to have a word with whoever came up with those rules, especially since she and Britt never get to sing together in Glee either, but Coach just takes it in stride.

“You’re absolutely right. And besides, any cheer routine in which either of you would have enough air in your lungs left to even think about singing would be a disgrace to the sport. Which means your task is to use those suspiciously authentic-seeming friendships you’ve cultivated with Schuester’s footsoldiers and find me a pair of divas to front this operation.”

With that Coach Sylvester stands, putting her journal away and turning toward the image of Will Schuester at the center of her murder board, which every time Santana sees it seems to have added another Democratic politician. “Who you pick is up to you, as long as the abomination known as Finchel stays a minimum of 500 feet away from me at all times. Dismissed.”

With the relief of another Coach’s meeting survived, Santana takes Britt’s hand again - there was a time when that wasn’t automatic, but she can’t quite remember when it ended - and the two of them walk toward the choir room with silent purpose and mutual understanding.

If Rachel Berry is out, Coach isn’t actually giving them a choice. There are only two other true divas in the New Directions.

It’s been a while since Santana has befriended a gay guy or a straight girl, and now she’ll have to get both at once.

***

Mercedes is trying to be happy. Really, she is.

But there’s only so much of this nonsense she can take without getting visibly frustrated.

Sure, it’s not Rachel’s fault that their setlists somehow got leaked and Mercedes’ chance to shine - possibly her only chance, since she can’t imagine Rachel will be denied the spotlight when the stakes get even higher - got snatched away from her at the last possible minute.

And yes, it’s not Quinn’s fault that Puck got her pregnant and her awful parents disowned her, nor is it Finn’s fault that he’s mad at Quinn for cheating on him, and it’s not even Puck’s fault that he’s mad that Finn damn near beat him within an inch of his life.

Though in the case of that deeply messed up merry-go-round, it’s also kind of all of their faults.

But now she has to walk on eggshells around the people who are supposed to be her friends, all of whom are exhibiting the emotional maturity of a pack of five year olds.

“I’m just glad my two best friends are the only ones in this club with any damn sense,” she finishes, smiling at Kurt and Artie, who have been listening to her blow off steam in the cafeteria for the last hour.

“Same here,” says Artie, raising her milk carton in a mock toast. “Though I guess the same can’t be said for you now Kurt, what with how Rachel has pulled you into her orbit.”

“That’s true.” Mercedes nods. “I’m kind of surprised you’re here now, honestly, with how much time you’ve been spending with her lately.”

Kurt grimaces. “Yeah, to be completely honest, I was supposed to be workshopping some arrangements with her right about now, but for some reason I have no idea where she is.”

“Finn, maybe?” Mercedes asks. She’s not a huge fan of Rachel and Finn together - she can’t shake the feeling that both of them have completely different perceptions of what their relationship is - but at this point she would welcome them dating just so that they would settle on a stable status quo.

Artie shakes her head. “Saw him in the gym, with a punching bag I’m pretty sure he was projecting Puck’s face onto.”

“It would be almost funny if it wasn’t so aggravating.” Mercedes says, “At the beginning of the year, winning Sectionals was a pipe dream. Now we’ve got a serious shot at becoming champions, thanks in no small part to the three of us, and we can’t celebrate because all of our teammates decide to completely lose it at the same time.”

“And if this keeps up, if our chemistry doesn’t recover, all this work could go to waste,” Kurt adds grimly.

Artie shakes her head vigorously. “Uh uh. I’m not losing one of my prime MCing years to Babygate and we’re not going down with anything less than our best at Regionals. If they don’t get it together, we force them to.”

Mercedes raises an eyebrow. “And how exactly are we supposed to do that? Kurt, you’re our designated Rachel-whisperer. Any ideas?”

“First of all, that’s the most horrible thing anyone has ever called me. Second, my contract with Rachel specifically states that I don’t have to go anywhere near anything involving her and Quinn. That’s not my area of expertise.”

Artie lets out a sigh of resignation. “You’re right. It’s mine. And I’ve got a coffee date I need to call in anyway, but that means you have to take the Finn and Puck beat,” she says, pointing at Kurt.

“I’ll give it a shot, but if either of them mentions the Bro Code even once I’m leaving.”

“Thank you Kurt, and you too Artie.” Mercedes smiles sadly at her friends. “Though I can’t say I'm thrilled that we’re taking it upon ourselves to fix everyone else’s problems when they barely take the time to notice us.”

“We can help with that.” All three of them look up in surprise to see Santana and Brittany, who, despite putting bizarre amounts of effort into a club they allegedly don’t care about, have rarely given any of them the time of day - well, except Brittany with Artie, but that’s a whole other conversation - pulling up chairs next to them.

“Since when have you been eager to get involved with our problems? Aren’t you supposed to still be pretending to hate the fact that you’re here?” Mercedes doesn’t know Santana that well, but she knows that the girl comes from the very social circles that have been chewing up and spitting out Mercedes and her friends for years. And that she’s got an irritatingly good voice (as if one abrasive female lead with the voice of an angel wasn’t enough).

“Well, I admit that I’m under doctors’ orders to stay away from any drama involving Rachel Berry so that I don't suffer from severe onset bloodlust,” Santana concedes.

“I’m the doctor,” Brittany mutters.

“But now it appears that you guys are in need of the same prescription. And Britt and I have a golden opportunity for you.” She looks at Kurt and Mercedes. “How would you two like to take your rainbow coalition act to the Cheerios?”

Mercedes almost spits out her milk. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Coach Sylvester wants to undercut Glee by adding music to the Cheerios performances, and Santana and I can’t do it because we need to breathe,” Brittany explains, “So we’re recruiting the two most talented singers in Glee, besides us.”

“And not just any music,” Santana adds, “Coach is insisting on Madonna.”

Kurt nearly shoots out of his seat. “Yes.”

Mercedes gently pulls him back down. “No, absolutely not. We’re not helping Sue undercut Glee. And besides Kurt, how are you gonna cheer for a football team that you’re on?”

“They won’t need us for the actual cheer parts. I’ll just change uniforms at the half. Kickers don’t need halftime adjustments, even if I could understand a word of what Coach Shannon is saying.”

“Yeah, see? Hummel’s got it right.” Santana nods approvingly. “Come on Mercedes, don’t you get sick of Schuester sidelining you again and again when you know if you were white every solo Rachel gets would go to you?”

The grain of truth in her words feels like a bucket of ice water to the face but Mercedes shakes it off. “I’ll get my moment sooner or later. But even if Glee wasn’t doing right by me, why should I trust the Cheerios to welcome me with open arms when they’ve made perfectly clear what they think of people who look like me?”

“Coach can be pretty mean. She kicked Quinn off for getting pregnant. And she doesn’t like it when we hold hands,” Brittany notes.

Santana’s expression softens so fast Mercedes can barely recognize her as the same person. “Look, you wouldn’t be doing this for Coach Sylvester. You would be doing it for yourselves. If nothing else, a national cheer championship, which me and Britt are going to deliver even without Quinn, would look good on your college applications.”

Mercedes looks at Kurt, whose eyes are practically begging her to say yes. And without knowing when the New Directions will be able to pull out of their tailspin of angst, Mercedes has to admit that she desperately needs a change of pace. Maybe this is just what they both need.

“All right, let’s do it.”

“Yes!” Kurt tackles her in a hug. “Rachel’s great, but I’ve been waiting to sing with you for ages. This will show Mr. Schue how it’s done.”

Brittany leans forward. “We need you too, Artie.”

Artie shakes her head. “Sorry Britt, but I’ve got more of a chance of Coach Shannon letting me on the football field than Coach Sylvester giving me a Cheerios uniform. Besides, I’m repulsed by athletics not as a wheelchair user, but as a theater kid.”

“Not for the routine, Blondie,” Santana says. “Coach has her heart set on recreating the _Vogue_ music video starring herself. None of the Cheerios can operate a camera and no one from the AV Club trusts us. So, what do you say about getting a directing credit to your name so that you’re not solely building your artistic portfolio on Glee trophies you might not even win? ”

Artie’s eyes widen. “You know I direct?”

Santana frowns. “What? No, you’re just the only other member of the New Directions not currently in the middle of a prolonged public meltdown. Except Lauren, but I figured I’d ask the girl who can’t snap me in half with her bare hands first.”

“Well, how about that?” Artie grins. “It looks like it’s a lucky day for all of us.”

Mercedes isn’t entirely sure about that. She can tell Santana’s being sincere, since it’s such a sharp contrast to how she is the rest of the time. But she still can’t shake the feeling that she’s about to do something incredibly dangerous.

***

“Rachel, you gotta relax. It’s just a work date.”

Rachel blushes before rolling her eyes at herself. She knows her awkwardness is absurd but she’s never actually been alone with Artie before. The New Directions have been family for a while now, especially those who have been there since day one, but there’s something different about this, with Artie looking at her with that confident half-smirk that Rachel has seen turn plenty of girls into mush.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just not used to people actually wanting to talk to me.”

Artie downs another sip of Lima Bean coffee. “Yeah, this’ll be about what I expected.”

She crumples a napkin and tosses it behind her, where it lands perfectly in a wastebasket. Show-off. “I was going to say sorry it took this long to follow up, but after watching that All-American Rejects-themed trainwreck, I think I caught you at the perfect time.”

Rachel’s definitely blushing now. She can’t stop it, so she settles for eyeing the tablecloth.

“I know that was a bad look. And thank you, by the way, for joining in on the chorus. Even if it was too late for me to salvage my professional respectability.”

“Oh, it was definitely too late for that. But it might not be for you and Quinn.”

“Oh come on Artie, that can’t seriously be your advice.” Rachel knows the resentment is audible in her voice, and she knows that isn’t fair, but she’s so tired of suppressing her emotions for everyone else’s sake. “I tried to put our past aside, I tried to reach out to her when she was at her lowest, and at every turn she just pushed me away. And now I find out that all of that sympathy and compromise and staying away from a boy I was probably in love with from the start, all for her, that it was based on a lie? And when for some godforsaken reason I find myself trying to forgive her anyway, she blames me, and Finn, and refuses to take responsibility for her own actions? After a certain point I can take a hint when the universe is telling me to stay away from someone.”

Artie leans forward, her expression turning deadly serious in a way that Rachel finds kind of unsettling. “Here’s the thing, Rach. I’ve seen enough of Quinn, and of girls like her, to know that there is no one she blames for what’s happened to her more than herself.”

Rachel blows out a frustrated breath. “Well, good on you for being a mind-reader but that sure isn’t what she communicated to me. And if Quinn thinks friendship can be built by playing twelve dimensional chess and never saying what you mean, that’s her problem.”

Artie shakes her head. “I’m saying if she’s deliberately pushing you away, it might just be because she thinks you’re better off without her.”

The words send a chill down Rachel’s spine as she thinks back to that conversation in the stands. Before everything had gone to pieces. The way Quinn was so resigned to her fate. The way her frustration at Mr. Schue had seemed so genuine (and honestly, Rachel had been right there with her before things went off the rails) but now that Rachel thinks about it, the barbs toward her and Finn, as deeply as they had cut at the time, had lacked that extra edge of conviction that usually accompanied a Quinn Fabray insult.

Rachel sighs. “You may be right. But I’ve given Quinn plenty of chances. And if she’s pushing people away because she’s already decided for them how they should feel about her, at some point that just becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.” She scowls into her coffee, which somehow tastes bitter despite the dangerous amount of sugar Artie had ordered for her. “I don’t even know why I’m disappointed. It’s exactly what I should have expected from a girl who’s done nothing but throw me under the bus for years. It’s not like I ever had a reason to care about her.”

“Ok, no offense Rachel, but I don’t buy that for a second.”

Suddenly the room seems a lot smaller. “What do you mean?”

“Look, it’s not my place to tell you how you feel about Quinn, and if you decide you hate her guts, I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest. But everyone in the room could see that the two of you were on the verge of a breakthrough before all this went down. And if you pretend you don’t care about losing this, you’ll never be free of it... and as someone who would actually really like to keep winning this year, I can’t just sit back and watch our chemistry fall to pieces because our ace lead vocalist can’t stand to be in the same room as one of our best harmonists. I’m sure you understand that.”

Rachel does. She always has, but that doesn’t mean it's easy to put everything aside when it feels like it’s cutting little pieces out of her every single day.

“And as your friend,” Artie continues, taking her hand across the table, “I don’t want to see you get caught in between loving this girl and hating her with no chance at getting closure. If you don’t try to fix it, you would have to let yourself mourn it. And even if you did, to be completely frank, I don’t think you would get out of it without serious regrets.”

Rachel shakes her head in bewilderment. “How do you sound so sure about this?”

“I’ve seen it before. Too many times.” Rachel can’t figure out what that means, and the sudden sadness in Artie’s eyes warns her not to ask. She softens.

“I appreciate that you did this for me Artie, really I do. But I’ve gotten along just fine my whole life with Quinn Fabray hating me. If anything, this will make it easier; we’ll be right back to the way it was before.”

“That’s not how it works,” Artie warns.

“Then I’ll just have to make it work that way.” She downs the rest of her coffee in one last bitter gulp and stands up. “Ready to go? We’re not late yet, but I’ve got something special in the cards for rehearsal that I really don’t want us to miss.”

Artie sighs, but apparently accepts defeat, because she pushes her chair away from the table. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you bailing on your mid-day arranging session with Kurt, would it? Which is apparently a thing that happens between the two of you now?”

Rachel blushes again, even worse than before. “I needed to pick up a few things at Between the Sheets. You’ll understand when we get back.” She holds open the door and follows Artie into the brisk winter afternoon. “And Kurt and I are just trying to maximize our chances of winning. Our creative energies happen to work really well together.”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” Artie grins. “If it were literally anyone else, ‘arranging session’ would be a euphemism. But it’s you two, so I eagerly await the day when we hear the resulting reworkings of _Wicked_ deep cuts where both of you are somehow Glinda _and _Elphaba.”__

Artie gives Rachel her signature wink at that, but at least this time Rachel’s in on the joke.

***

Kurt catches Finn after the final class of the day. There’s no football practice, and they only have five minutes before choir practice starts, but this can’t wait. Which is a shame because Kurt could really use the security of pads and a helmet right about now.

“Hey. Everything work out with our parents?”

Finn furrows his brow. “I think so. The car’s fine, far as I can tell, but my mom made another appointment anyway. Though I can’t blame her for being overcautious about car maintenance ever since I almost killed a man with the thing.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” Kurt adjusts the collar on his letterman jacket, which he’s grown weirdly fond of lately. “Listen, I know you’re in a rough spot right now, but you really need to work things out with Puck.”

Not the lightest touch, Kurt knows, but the more time he spends with Finn the harder it is to tiptoe around him.

“Dude, I know you’re not seriously giving me that lecture right now.”

This is going about as well as Kurt feared. He picks up his pace to keep up with Finn. “I’m not saying you need to forgive him. I’m saying you need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure that will result in a perfectly reasonable explanation for why my best friend, who I’ve known since I could walk, got my girlfriend pregnant and then lied to me about it for months.”

“No, but it will give you some sense of how you want to proceed going forward. You need closure, Finn, and you’re not going to get that if you just ignore what you’ve lost.”

Finn stops in his tracks. “Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. And I know it sucks being around all this right now, but if I try to talk to Puck right now I’ll just beat him up again. And then I’ll get kicked out for good. So trust me, out of all the bad options, this one is the least bad.”

It’s not like Kurt expected anything else, but he still feels a twinge of dread, knowing that he’s down to the Hail Mary of hoping that Puck somehow takes it upon himself to fix things. Which seems about as likely as Finn taking Kurt’s advice on developing a skincare routine.

He’s so preoccupied with the impossibility of getting straight men to communicate with each other with words that he barely has the energy to roll his eyes upon entering the choir room and seeing Madonna underlined on the white board. Sure, Mr. Schue’s lack of originality is only getting more grating now that they’re trying to prepare to take down the defending champions, but at least he’s copying a good idea. And anyway, he’s sure there’s no way this week can get any worse than it already has.

Until he takes his seat and realizes that there’s someone else in the room, someone who is very much not supposed to be there.

Up until this point, Kurt had been counting it as a victory if he could get through choir practice without any of his teammates trying to murder each other. This might require him to rethink that framework. Because right now all of the drama and violence and heartbreak that has been dragging them down for weeks is being washed away by the person standing in front of them. A person who Kurt has no doubt is an even bigger existential threat than any illicit pregnancy could ever be.

He’d know who he is even if he hadn’t seen so much of that face recently. Rachel’s locker. Rachel’s bedroom. And now, right when Kurt really needs to not have anything else go wrong, he’s in their choir room.

“Welcome everyone,” Mr. Schue begins. “Before we get to Madonna week, I have a very special announcement that is going to completely change the game for us. Please welcome our newest transfer to McKinley and the newest member of the New Directions, former Vocal Adrenaline captain and defending national champion Jesse St. James!”

Rachel leaps to her feat and gives him a standing ovation, which no one else joins in. Kurt meets Finn’s eyes from across the room, and he knows they both understand. This is a Defcon 1.

“What was your audition song?” Kurt tries to keep his voice steady. He’s scared out of his mind but the second he lets Jesse see that, it's over.

“Oh, you’re so funny Kurt,” Rachel laughs, and Kurt feels the familiar twinge of irritation he hadn’t felt toward her in months.

“No, for real,” Finn speaks up, his eyes equally as intense. “Everyone in this club had to audition, even Rachel. Just because you’re Vocal Adrenaline royalty doesn’t mean you can just show up and become one of us.”

“Finn!” Rachel sounds genuinely hurt, and Kurt realizes it’s already worse than he could have imagined, but she’s cut off by Jesse interjecting.

“No need for that; your backing vocalists are right, Rachel. I wouldn’t have shown up to my first ever rehearsal unprepared. Your band already has the sheet music.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Artie turn to stare daggers at Rachel, and suddenly Kurt knows why he was ghosted. If this keeps up, irritation is quickly going to regress to unadulterated loathing.

Jesse, unfortunately, is still talking. “And since you’re apparently doing Madonna this week - and can I just say, that’s a great original idea, Mr. Schuester - I figured I’d start us off right.” He turns to the band - _their_ band - and raises his hand. “Hit it.”

What follows is the most horrifying version of _Like A Prayer_ Kurt has ever experienced. Jesse’s got the complete toolbox - range, breath control, emotionality, charisma to burn - but the overwrought delivery and self-indulgent vocalizations make Rachel’s full-power Streisand mode look positively restrained. And where Rachel at least completely loses herself in performance, allowing her songs to take flight, Jesse’s aura of self-aware smugness keeps the music decidedly Earth-bound. Losing solos to a transcendent talent is one thing, but getting pushed aside for a high class toy like this is more than Kurt can bear.

And of course it doesn’t help that the performance is intercut with enough flirty glances shot toward Rachel that Kurt can tell Finn is on the verge of jumping him - and if he does, Kurt honestly might join in.

“Wow, that was amazing!” Mr. Schue, sadly, is nothing if not predictable. “I don’t think that you need me to say you’re on the team, and we look forward to showcasing you at Regionals and Nationals.”

Kurt is just about ready to vomit but Jesse mercifully takes a seat.

“And now, to business,” Mr. Schue continues, “Madonna is one of the definitive artists of all of our lifetimes, and I look forward to all of you performing her greatest hits at the end of the week. Now, for partners, I was thinking- ”

“Mr. Schuester, we have an announcement to make.” Kurt locks eyes with Mercedes, then Artie. He had been fully prepared to expand his horizons without undermining the New Directions, but if their coach was committed to blatant self-sabotage, something drastic needed to be done. “Mercedes, Artie, and myself won’t be able to put songs together this week. The Cheerios are adding a musical and multimedia element to their performances, and in addition to the current cheerleaders on our roster, the three of us have been recruited to lend our talents to next Thursday’s halftime show, which we’ll need to be in rigorous preparation for all week.”

Santana frowns. “Wait, we don’t need you until the day before- ”

“By order of Coach Sylvester herself,” says Artie. “Right Brittany?”

Brittany nods. “That’s right, Lady Artemis.”

“And you know how Sue is,” adds Mercedes. “If you try to pull us out of it she’ll just knock over all of your filing cabinets or pour her coffee on the choir room floor or something. Better to just let us do it. It’s only one week.”

“And luckily you’ll have enough remaining members for a boys vs girls Madonna showdown of your own,” Kurt finishes. Since we already know what we’re getting with Jesse, and Lauren’s interest is measured by the fact that she is currently asleep, I suggest they serve as judges. That leaves Finn and Puck vs Rachel and Quinn.”

“Kurt!” This time, Rachel and Finn object at the same time.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea Kurt,” says Will. Sometimes it pays to have a complete pushover in charge. “We’ve been running on some pretty raw emotions over the last few weeks, but we can’t afford to be fractured going into Regionals, even with Jesse in the fold. This will be the perfect opportunity to recapture our sense of togetherness. So get practicing and get ready to give Madonna the tribute she deserves.”

The New Directions disperse, and Kurt makes his way toward Rachel, since he really does owe her an explanation, and she owes him a blown off afternoon. Unfortunately, someone else gets there first.

***

“What the hell are you doing?”

Rachel can’t believe the nerve of this girl, but the cadence of the accusation is so familiar she can’t help but smile.

“Well, Quinn, I’m making a new friend and helping guarantee the New Directions a victory at Regionals. And even if I wasn’t, it turns out it’s none of your business.”

She tries to walk faster to lose the girl, but Quinn’s strides are much longer, and she has no trouble keeping pace, much to Rachel’s frustration.

“Jesse St. James is playing you. You don’t think it’s even a little bit suspicious that he shows up out of nowhere to duet with you, _off_ campus, and that same day tells you he’s transferring from a diva’s dream school where he’s basically a god among his peers to a nowhere school halfway between Columbus and Cincinnati, with absolutely no significance apart from suddenly becoming competitive on the show choir circuit thanks to your breakout performance?”

The rapid-fire monologue is delivered with more righteous indignation than Rachel’s ever heard from Quinn, which she didn’t think was possible. But she keeps her shoulders square and tries to remain unprovoked.

“So he’s seen the competition and realized it’s better to join us than to try to beat us. How is that anything but a victory?”

“He’s here to sabotage us, specifically by manipulating you. And setlist leaks within the district are one thing, but if Vocal Adrenaline can parade an obvious spy right through the front door, we might as well not even bother to take the stage at Regionals.”

“You’re delusional,” Rachel bites back, her anger quickly rising to match Quinn’s in spite of herself. “And besides, how can it possibly be any concern of yours when you’ve made it so abundantly clear that I’ve ruined your life and you want nothing to with me?”

“Yeah, well thanks to your future Broadway life partner and his plucky underdog sidekicks, it looks like we’re stuck with each other, and maybe I don’t feel like watching this club come apart at the seams like everything else in my life.”

“Oh, don’t even try to pretend this about the good of a club that you’ve only been invested in for about five minutes, if that.” She’s speaking too loudly, and they’re starting to attract attention, but Rachel just glowers at a pack of freshmen and keeps moving, determined not to look at Quinn. “I tried over and over again to be the bigger person, you threw it back in my face, and now that I finally believe you are who you say you are, you still won’t let me move on with my life. I don’t know if you’re jealous or hurt or you just like having me agonize over you every second of the day, but I’m not doing it anymore.”

Quinn is still right on her heels. “On the contrary, nothing would make me happier than you never sparing me a second thought again. But maybe I assumed you would be smart enough to take the golden opportunity to abscond with my ex-boyfriend, you know, a good person who would actually treat you well, instead of hurling yourself into the path of yet another person who’s only going to hurt you!”

The pain in her voice and the outburst synching up so perfectly with Artie’s words from earlier - _“she thinks you’re better off without her”_ \- brings Rachel to an abrupt halt.

She turns to Quinn. “Okay. Setting aside how ridiculous it is that you think you can police the way I live my life with some kind of perverse self-martyring reverse psychology, fine. You want to talk about self-destruction? Let’s talk about you and Noah.” She knows she shouldn’t go there but restraint has never been her strong suit. Especially when it comes to Quinn.

Quinn’s expression hardens again. “This isn’t about me, Rachel.”

“Isn’t it? We both know he wasn’t your only option. Brittany and Santana would have let you stay with them. Mercedes, me, any of us! And instead you go straight to the person who got you into this in the first place. He doesn’t love you Quinn, and even if he did, you deserve better than settling for the boy who ruined your life.”

Yeah. Restraint really isn’t her strong suit.

“Enough.” Quinn’s eyes flare with the same fire Rachel saw when she got too curious in the Celibacy Club so many weeks ago. “You don’t get to judge me for this. Hate me for anything else, but not this.”

As ready for a fight as Rachel is, something about that look lets her know that she really needs to not push any further, and fortunately she has just enough awareness left to swallow her retort.

“Fair enough. But if that’s the case, you don’t get to judge me for the friends I make either.”

Quinn shakes her head in exasperation. “God, you are such a stubborn little… ”

“Yeah, well at least I’m not a hypocritical - a what?” Rachel cuts her off. Insults, at least, she can deal with. If Quinn has the energy to bring back her old go-to method of antagonism, then maybe Rachel can prove Artie wrong after all.

“Arrogant- ” Quinn steps closer.

“Judgmental- ” Rachel holds her ground.

“Delusional- ” They’re nose to nose, Rachel standing on her toes in a futile attempt to make up her three inch height deficit.

“Self-righteous- ”

“Insufferable- ”

“Hey Quinn, can I borrow Rachel for a second? Thanks.” In the blink of an eye, she’s been whisked away, and Kurt is pulling her down the hall. It’s not until they’ve rounded the corner that Rachel finally regains her bearings.

“What are you doing? I had that under control.”

Kurt grimaces. “First of all, you had as much control of that as I did the first time I tried to throw a football. Second of all, if either of you had taken another step forward you would have broken each other’s noses.”

Rachel starts to argue, but even she has to admit that she could have handled that with a bit more dignity. “Okay, fine, thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know why Quinn has decided she gets to be my life coach and my archnemesis at the same time, but I’m not gonna let that diminish today’s good news.”

“Oh, honey, just because Quinn was a bitch doesn’t mean she isn’t right.”

Rachel’s heart sinks. “Not you too. I feel like I’m losing my mind. How am I the only one who realizes that the best singer for arguably the best show choir of all time defecting to our side right before regionals is actually a good thing?”

“Look, Rachel, I’m not going to argue that Jesse is a spy. I mean, he clearly is, but I’m not gonna be able to make the case for that better than Quinn did.” He falls silent for a moment, then seems to make a decision. “What I can do is show you that we already have everything we need to win Nationals. So can you text Finn and tell him to get here ASAP?”

He hasn’t slowed down, and Rachel realizes he’s heading for the auditorium. “Okay but it would be easier if you would just give him your number already.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to hold an intervention for me while I’m holding an intervention for you.”

Which reminds Rachel that she has something else to be mad at him for.

“Thanks for throwing me to the wolves earlier, by the way. Since when have you had any desire to be a Cheerio?”

“Since they have the resources and the tyrannical leadership to do Madonna the justice she deserves,” Kurt shoots back. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Coach Sylvester is a monster but she gets results. And if Jesse is going to be devouring all the oxygen you don’t use up yourself from now on, this might be the only outlet the less accomplished among us might have to stay on top of the game for a while.”

There’s a touch of resentment in his voice and Rachel knows she could be concerned about that, but she can’t muster the energy to assuage his fears. He’ll realize he has nothing to worry about once Jesse has been around for a few weeks.

“I just don’t understand, Kurt. You saw what just happened between me and Quinn, and that was the most productive conversation we’ve had in weeks. What on Earth makes you think anything will be different on Friday?”

“Because you’ll be singing,” Kurt answers, “She won’t be able to outmaneuver you on your own turf. And besides, even if you two are still completely dysfunctional, your voice goes with Quinn’s almost better than it goes with mine. So it’s a net positive for us either way.”

“And everyone says that I’m ruthless,” Rachel mutters.

“Yeah, well, you wanted me to be a diva, this is what that looks like.” As they arrive at their destination, Kurt turns to Rachel with softness in his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry for throwing you into the fire. But this is gonna work. Trust me.”

And despite everything, Rachel does. So when he pulls the heavy doors of the auditorium open, she doesn’t hesitate to follow him in.

***

Finn is used to not knowing what girls are thinking - or guys, for that matter. But the mixed signals he’s been getting from Rachel Berry since breaking up with Quinn have made him think he shouldn’t even bother trying.

He’s fairly certain she’s in love with him, if the flirting and the longing glances have been any indication. She’d already tried to kiss him once when he was taken. Now that he’s available and she’s apparently no longer on a mission of self-denial to spare Quinn’s feelings, he’s fairly certain that it's only a matter of time before she makes another move. This time, he won't have any reason not to accept it.

Which is great, he thinks. Finn knows he’ll never feel what Rachel feels when she performs but singing with her that first time had felt magical for him in its own way. On the field, he had always been The Guy, the one everyone looked to when they needed a play to win the game. Gratifying, sure, especially for those rare pre-Kurt games they actually won, but also kind of overwhelming. Singing with Rachel was the first time he’d had someone there that could carry him on her shoulders - metaphorically speaking of course - and he had to admit it felt pretty awesome.

Plus, he’s finally starting to realize that as much as he had grown to love Quinn and as much as her betrayal has shattered his heart, he had gotten together with her in the first place mostly because it seemed like something someone like him should do.

So maybe he’s ready to move on, and maybe Rachel - ambitious, demanding, beautiful Rachel, the whole reason he found Glee in the first place - is the perfect match for him that Quinn never was.

Except now there’s another guy, and this one’s the perfect match for her that he could never be. An artist as talented as her, who gets all her Broadway references and can push her to achieve her full potential. Someone who can stay by her side when she inevitably gets out of Ohio and becomes a star. Someone she’ll never have to leave behind.

Sure, there was already a guy like that, but this one isn’t gay.

And if the way she stood up for a boy she’d only met that day is any indication, Finn doesn’t see any way for Jesse St. James not to come out of this on top.

Except for the vague text message that’s been running through his head over and over again as he races through the halls as fast as he can.

_“Auditorium. 5 minutes. Come alone. :)”_

If it’s a chance, he’s going to take it. He can accept Rachel choosing Jesse over him, but he’ll never live with himself if he doesn’t at least take his shot.

He pauses at the door of the auditorium, takes a deep breath, and then pushes through.

The place is pitch dark except for a single spotlight, where Rachel sits at the piano. When she sees him, she breaks into a smile as bright as he’s seen in ages, and Finn can’t help but take a running leap onto the stage to join her.

“Hey,” he says, squeezing onto the too small piano bench.

“Hey,” she responds shyly. “Thank you for coming. It really means a lot.”

“Well, I couldn’t blow you off, it sounded urgent.”

She shakes her head. “Not at all. I just wanted you to be here.” The warmth that immediately spreads through Finn’s chest is enough to know for sure. This might not work, but it won’t be a mistake. He reaches out to take her hand, and she immediately obliges.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Finn starts, before a cacophonous crash from backstage makes them both leap to their feet.

“Sorry, I found our music. I just had to knock over several thousand dollars worth of the marching band’s instruments to get to it. Serves them right for moving our stuff.” The curtain parts, and Kurt walks out to join them. “Oh good, you’re here.”

The last several minutes suddenly take on a very different light. Finn can’t believe he was so stupid.

“Wait, Rachel, if you didn’t… if that wasn’t… I mean, why am I here?”

Rachel looks at him with utter confusion, which doesn’t help Finn’s mood. “Because you’re our leading man, and we need you to help figure out how we’re going to fit Jesse into the ensemble.”

“By which she means we’re going to demonstrate to each other why we don’t need to use Jesse St. James as anything but eye candy for the judges,” Kurt adds, disregarding the dirty look Rachel shoots him.

Of course. Of course Rachel would be more concerned with how many of Finn’s solos now have to go to the alpha diva from Vocal Adrenaline than how she feels about either of them. At least Kurt seems to be on his side on this, even if he’s also the reason Finn now has to sing a duet with Puck. But even that won’t be any worse than the time he has to spend with his ex-best friend at football practice, so he’s not gonna call Kurt out on it. He’s done enough fighting already. And he really could use some singing to take his mind off things.

He sighs, returning to the piano. “All right. Are we using this to practice?” He thumbs through the thick stack of sheet music sitting on the piano, none of which he can read except for the titles. “Wait. How many arrangements of _Defying Gravity_ are there?”

“Oh, no, that’s just a little something Rachel and I have been working on on the side.” Kurt holds up the box he pulled from backstage, hauling it over to set it between the three of them. “What we need is all in here. It’s a catalogue of pop and Broadway standards that Mr. Schue has been building up for years. Even for someone with taste as unrefined as him, there’s bound to be some Madonna in here that we can tweak to fit a decent three part harmony.”

He rummages through an alarming amount of paper, barely giving most of the titles a second glance. “Ugh. Of all the Michael Jackson songs, why would he pick _Ben?”_

“I’ve always kind of liked that one,” Rachel mutters.

“That’s because you like to watch me suffer,” Kurt replies, and Finn is quickly discovering the absurd feeling of being a third wheel to two people who aren’t even together.

“Yes! This is it.” Kurt pulls out a folder labeled _Madonna_ in the unmistakable block letters of Mr. Schue’s handwriting, but upon opening it his jaw goes slack in horror.

“You have got to be kidding me. One song, and it’s _Like A Virgin?”_

“Yeah, maybe not the best choice,” Rachel says quietly.

“How about _Borderline?_ Or _Open Your Heart?”_ Rachel and Kurt both turn to look at Finn in surprise. He’s a little surprised himself but he keeps going.

“My mom went to college in the 80s. She’s a huge Madonna fan; she would play the albums for me growing up, not just the MTV highlights. And those two were always my favorites.

Rachel smiles. “Well, you have excellent taste.” She looks at Kurt. “Mashup?”

He nods. “Mashup.” He tosses the _Like A Virgin_ sheet music behind him. _“Borderline_ for the verses - you start, I follow, we double on the pre-chorus.”

“Then _Open Your Heart_ for the chorus, perfect,” Rachel continues. “I go high, you go low - your low harmonies are my favorite - and Finn takes the lead.”

Finn can’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Rachel.”

Kurt glances between them, and something flickers across his face that Finn can’t quite read. He pauses, then seems to make a decision.

“The second verse should just be you two; a little of my voice goes a long way. And I’ll hold down the final chorus so that you two can do those runs together that work so well on _Don’t Stop Believin'.”_

“Yes! This is gonna be so much fun.” Rachel pulls them both into a quick group hug - and Finn is kind of impressed at how effectively she’s able to corale two people much larger than her - and then races backstage.

“Rachel?” Finn calls after her. “What are you- “

“Just a second!” There’s scraping sound and a grunt of exertion, and Kurt rolls his eyes and jogs back to help her. In no time, they’re dragging a dilapidated drum set into the center of the stage.

“You’ve moonlighted with the band a couple of times before.” Rachel hands him a pair of drum sticks. “How would you like to get the chance to actually practice first?”

The next three minutes are a whirlwind. For the first time in a while, Finn remembers that joining Glee Club is one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

As Finn sets the beat and their arrangement begins to come to life, he can’t help but marvel at Kurt and Rachel. It’s not the most conventional kind of chemistry, but it still feels like they’ve been singing together for years. Their voices are beautiful in unison but it’s when Finn jumps in for the chorus and they instantly split into perfect harmonies that Finn realizes that they might have something truly special.

Of course, then it’s the second verse, and it’s like the first day of rehearsal all over again. Just Finn and Rachel. When she looks at him she looks so happy, not just to be singing with him but to be sharing the moment with him. And when Kurt joins back in with a reliable melody so that Finn can stretch his voice to follow Rachel, just for a moment, to heights he never thought he could reach, all the pain that Puck and Quinn have caused him melts away as if it never existed.

With a final flourish from the drums, Finn brings the song to a perfect ending. Rachel takes a running leap to give him a high five, Kurt offers an understated fistbump, and as their laughter echoes through an empty auditorium, Finn thinks this just might be the happiest he’s ever been.

“Well, well, well.”

In an instant, the euphoria evaporates. A blast of winter air rolls through where a door has just been opened and a figure stands in the darkness, his silhouette unmistakable even if Finn hadn’t already memorized the sound of that blood-chilling voice.

Jesse St. James steps out of the shadows, clapping slowly.

“That was just adorable.”

“This is a private rehearsal.” Kurt’s voice drops an octave as he subtly steps between Rachel and Jesse.

“Open only to members of the New Directions for more than a day,” Finn adds, stepping in front of both of them.

“Guys, it’s fine!” Rachel pushes her way through them and hops off the stage, leaving Finn and Kurt to look at each other in hapless horror. “I’m sorry we haven’t been as welcoming as we should be. You’re obviously going to be a big part of our success, but since it might take you a while to get up to speed on our group dynamics, my co-captains and I have been workshopping potential numbers in the meantime.”

Finn knows Rachel well enough by now to spot the power play - he and Kurt aren’t captains, as the yearbook debacle so definitively confirmed. But Jesse can’t know that, and the fact that Rachel is subtly standing up for them even as she inexplicably gives someone so obviously evil the benefit of the doubt - well, it’s heartwarming, but also confusing and really, really frustrating.

“Well, you’ve trained them up well.” Jesse steps closer to Rachel and Finn tries to wrestle down the rage quickly building in him.

“It’s not a surprise you won Sectionals. These two are all-district, for sure.” Finn’s heard of smiles that are sickeningly insincere before, but he thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen one up close. “Though if I may offer a note, until I’m comfortable enough in the program to start singing with you, you’ll want to either reinforce the countertenor’s power or teach the baritenor a little more control. I’d hate to see you fail to achieve the potential your little trinity just showed here.”

“That’s it,” Kurt mutters under his breath. Finn grabs his wrist before he can surge forward.

“Not a good idea man.” Jesse St. James may be a theater kid, but Vocal Adrenaline’s infamous choreography has given him the body of a free safety, and there’s a danger in his eyes that Finn has never seen before. Not even in the meanest bully. Which is why it’s so terrifying that Rachel won’t back away.

“I appreciate it,” she says, “but I think we’ve got more than enough of what we need. Kurt and Finn aren’t just talented for Lima, they’re part of the reason we would have won Regionals even if you were still at Carmel.”

Jesse’s smug smile falters, and Rachel keeps going. “And I want to be clear about this. You’re here as part of a team. You’re not here to replace anyone. You’ll get your chance to shine, but if you can’t handle sharing the spotlight with more than just me, this isn’t going to work out. Can you do that?”

Jesse nods. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Rachel beams. “Good. See you at rehearsal, then?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” And with that, Jesse St. James gives Finn and Kurt a knowing wink that somehow manages to be both insufferable and terrifying, opens the door to another blast of cold air, and disappears into the night.

Kurt frees his arm from Finn’s grip. “He’s lying. Rachel, please, you can’t trust him.”

“I’m with Kurt on this one. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Rachel turns back to them, and her eyes tell Finn this is a fight they won’t win. “I’m sorry guys, but you can’t be treating Jesse like an enemy when you have no proof he is one.”

“Oh sure, no proof except motive, means, and opportunity. Not to mention common sense.” Kurt’s voice is wrought with bitterness, so far removed from the affectionate banter he was exchanging with Rachel mere minutes ago. “You know what Rachel? This was fun, but I have a Cheerios performance to prepare for. Let me know if you need any help with the New Directions, but as long as it's the Lima chapter of Vocal Adrenaline, I’m not interested.”

“Kurt, that’s not fair - Kurt, wait!” Rachel tries to follow him but he’s already gone. She turns to Finn with tears in her eyes. “I suppose you’re going to walk out on me too?”

Finn shakes his head. “I saw the way you stood up for us. I know you’re just trying to do what’s best for the Glee Club.” But there is something he can’t quite put his finger on. “I just don’t understand why you won’t even entertain the possibility that Jesse isn’t telling the truth.”

Rachel stares into the darkness of the empty room. “I had never met Jesse until now, but I’ve been building him up in my head as my enemy, my rival, my obstacle to overcome, for so many years. And now that he’s suddenly on my side… I just have to believe it, Finn. I have to believe that something like this can work.”

Slowly, another piece of the Rachel Berry puzzle starts to click into place. Finn thinks back to the first thing he ever said to her, and wonders if his first impression was more correct than he realized.

“I think that’s really brave of you, Rachel.” He has to be careful, he knows. “But if it turns out not to work with Jesse - that doesn’t mean anything for anyone else. You know that right?”

She nods sadly. “I know.”

“Are you falling for him?” The words are out his mouth before he can stop them. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid question, I didn’t - Rachel?” He sputters to a halt as he realizes the girl isn’t crying anymore; she’s laughing.

“Oh, you always know how to cheer me up.” And then she’s standing on her tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. “He is so not my type.”

She grabs his hand, and as the whiplash makes him dizzy for the umptheenth time today, Finn starts to realize that maybe life with Rachel Berry will always be this chaotic. And maybe he doesn’t mind.

“Alright, I’m gonna head home,” she says, “I’ve got another Madonna piece to prep, and then I have to get enough sleep that I don’t try to murder Quinn tomorrow.”

***

Kurt finds his friends on the sideline after the quick change into his brand new Cheerios uniform, and it starts to sink in that he’s really doing this.

“Artie that was amazing!” Mercedes leans down to hug their friend, whose incredibly surreal recreation of the _Vogue_ music video had just played over the stadium scoreboard. And while it featured a little too much of Sue Sylvester trying to sing for Kurt’s taste, he can’t deny that it's a visual masterpiece.

Artie grins. “Black and white. Works every time.” She slides her chair out of the way of a parade of offensive lineman. “Alright, it’s almost time for you two to go on, so I’d better get off the sidelines before Sue tries to shoot me out of a cannon or something. Show ‘em what the New Directions can do with our training weights off, alright?”

“With pleasure.” Kurt couldn’t be more grateful for these two, who have made the last week of avoiding Rachel and being awkward around Finn much more bearable than it otherwise would have been.

Though as he and Mercedes take the cue from Santana and follow their fellow Cheerios into position, he can’t help but locate Rachel in the crowd instantly, and he does a double take when he sees who’s sitting next to her.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he whispers in Mercedes’s ear, “Don’t tell me this stunt of ours actually worked.”

Mercedes follows Kurt’s eyeline to where Rachel and Quinn are sitting together, the only familiar faces in a sea of strangers. She studies the scene for a moment, then frowns. “Well they’re sitting unreasonably far apart from each other and staring unnaturally straight ahead. But that’s also the closest they’ve willingly gotten in a while So, I guess we get partial credit?”

“Better than I expected, to be honest,” Kurt says, declining to mention that he’s mostly just relieved that Jesse is nowhere in sight.

Maybe there’s still a chance for the New Directions after all, and it’s this thought that allows Kurt to get swept up in the bombast of the marching band as Mercedes pulls him forward and gives him his first ever namecheck: _“Hey, uh, come on, Kurt Hummel!”_

_“Come on girl, I’ve been waiting for somebody to pick up my stroll.”_

It’s only when he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever gotten to use his lower register in a public performance that Kurt starts to think he won’t be giving up this blazer any time soon.

_“Well, don’t waste time, give me the sign, tell me how you want to roll.”_

Mercedes looks equally ecstatic at having the opportunity not to belt for once, and as Kurt locks eyes with his friend all the stress of their more tumultuous friendships seems to fade away. And when their voices finally combine, with Santana and Brittany leading the Cheerios in a truly epic symphony of movement around them, it’s no longer about making a statement to anyone. It’s just really, really fun.

_“If you want it, you already got it  
If you thought it, it better be what you want.  
If you feel it, it must be real just  
Say the word and Imma give you want.”_

When they split again, it’s only to finish each other’s phrases, and the energy exchange is so fast it feels like Kurt’s being lifted off the ground.

_“Time is waiting!”  
”We only got 4 minutes to save the world!”  
“No hesitating!”  
“Grab a boy, grab a girl!”_

_“Time is waiting!”  
“We only got 4 minutes to save the world!”  
“No hesitating!”_

As the band and the cheer squad ramp the energy up to earthshaking levels and the crowd surges to its feet in a maelstrom of kinetic energy that even Broadway could never hope to replicate, Kurt and Mercedes sync back up one more time to bring it home the way only they can.

_"We only got 4 minutes to uh, 4 minutes!  
Keep it up, keep it up, don’t be afraid hey, Madonna, uh  
You gotta get 'em all, hot!  
Tik tok tik tok tik tok_

_That’s right, so keep it up, keep it up don’t be afraid hey, Madonna, uh  
You gotta get 'em all, hot!”_

The uncertain future can wait. This is their time.

_“Tik tok, tik tok, tik tok!”_

***

Rachel doesn’t try to murder Quinn the day after their fight, or even the day after that, but by the time they’re both standing in front of Mr. Schue and the rest of the New Directions, she can’t make any promises that this won’t be the one where she finally snaps.

Rehearsals had been a nightmare, not least because Quinn is now a much stronger singer, and took a great deal of satisfaction in how Rachel couldn’t overpower her the way she used to. Rachel had tried to reassert control by making them drill it until it was perfect the day before the performance, but Quinn had matched her note for note without complaint and then dragged her to the Thursday Night football game after they had finally memorized their choreography, because ‘I don't care about your trouble in paradise, Rachel, I want to see my friends perform.’

Which only made it worse, because Kurt had indeed been keeping his distance all week, and when she saw him in a Cheerios jumpsuit with Mercedes, blowing the crowd away and looking happier than she’d ever seen him, she was left with the sinking feeling that the only person who needed her talent right now was a girl who would probably never stop hating her.

But the show must go on, and at least Finn is smiling at her (still bright red from Puck’s and his… interesting interpretation of _What it Feels Like For a Girl,_ but smiling nonetheless) and Rachel wouldn’t be the star that she is if she didn’t give every song her all. So even though the tension in the air is making this the most claustrophobic performance space she’s ever been in, she imagines throwing her voice to the very back row of an arena as she opens it up.

_“Come on girls!”_

She winks at Artie to build up her courage, then shoves her nervousness back into her chest and turns to face her duet partner, trying not to get distracted by the leather jacket Quinn is wearing to match hers, a request Rachel had made at the eleventh hour to be purposefully unreasonable that Quinn had somehow managed to fulfill.

_“Do you believe in love?”_

Quinn’s smile is nothing but a challenge, one which Rachel gladly accepts.

_“Cause I got something to say about it.”  
And it goes something like this.”_

They turn back to the audience as the band explodes into the number, and their voices merge into one for the first time since their failed attempt at sharing _Don’t Stop Believin’._

_“Don’t go for second best baby  
Put your love to the test.  
You know you know you’ve got to  
Make him express how he feels  
And maybe then you’ll know your love is real.” _

Rachel tries to focus on Finn as much as possible, but as they split apart for the verses, she can’t help but put a hand on Puck’s shoulder as she stares down Quinn.

_“You don’t need diamond rings  
Or eighteen karat gold.”_

Quinn’s eyes flare, but she only holds Rachel’s gaze and smiles as she leans down and grabs Jesse by the shirt collar.

_“Fancy cars that go very fast  
You know they never last, no, no.”_

She pushes an utterly confused Jesse back down and marches straight toward Rachel.

_“What you need is a big strong hand  
To lift you to higher ground”_

Rachel gets to her mark with perfect timing, and delivers her counter inches from Quinn’s face.

_“Make you feel like a queen on a throne  
Make him love you till you can’t come down.”_

As they launch into the chorus again, they don’t even bother to turn toward the audience. Unlike their first attempt at a duet so long ago, they’re perfectly in sync, and Rachel realizes that Kurt was right about their voices; even in their spiteful antagonism, they really do sound beautiful together. And while it’s so different from the warmth of singing with Finn, or the certainty of singing with Kurt, there’s an energy to their performance that she doesn’t think she’s ever experienced.

As the song builds toward its electric conclusion, as Rachel breaks into a genuine smile despite herself and realizes that Quinn has done the same, she realizes what’s different about this.

It burns.

They step out, then back in, and finish back to back, Quinn dropping her voice back to Earth as Rachel throws hers toward the heavens.

_“Express yourself.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Santana and Finn did not sleep together in our canon. Which means that Finn is still a virgin and the last person Santana slept with is Puck (before canon).
> 
> Yes, we're keeping Kurt and Mercedes being Cheerios, we're fixing their plotlines in upcoming episodes. Don't forget that Kurt is also still on the football team!


	16. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Kurt and Mercedes joined the Cheerios because they were sick of always getting sidelined by Rachel, Finn, and now Jesse, who's transferred to McKinley and joined the New Directions. They, along with Artie, also started a mission to try and defuse the bomb set by Finn, Puck, Rachel, and Quinn. The latter two are back to bickering, which Rachel's strangely missed. And Finn's mom's car can't seem to get fixed no matter how many times Kurt's dad comes over, for some reason.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, April Rhodes is an adult, and so should get the same treatment every other adult has been given; being written out of the show. But we just adore Kristin Chenoweth and Micah wrote such a fun and quirky April back in The Rhodes Not Taken that we decided to keep her plot relevance.
> 
> And although this April is written by Oliver, we promise you won't be able to tell them apart. 
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Mercedes is about two seconds away from bashing Sue Sylvester’s head in with her own megaphone. Why she feels the need to use when Mercedes is standing six feet away from her in her own office, Mercedes can’t even begin to fathom. Still, she knows this is the only opportunity for a solo she’s realistically going to get, so she painstakingly stows her temper and bats the microphone to the side with a hard won lack of force.

“I’ve told you, Coach, I’m not wearing one of those little skirts. That's just not my style.”

“And I’ve told you, Little Miss Diana Ross, that I couldn’t care less about what you do or don’t find stylish.” At least she’s finally put down the megaphone. “Do you know what happens when you let children express individuality? You end up with a saxophone player in the White House and the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression. Now, as I live and breathe, I will not allow that to happen again. In fact, I’m so against the concept of individuality that I now refuse to carry an Ohio State Photo ID. You know why?” She raises her megaphone back up. “People should know who I am.”

“I don’t really know what that has to do with anything, and I’m not sure that I care, but I’m not going to wear the skirt. So, you can either learn to love me as I am, or I can walk and you lose your vocal talent. Both of us.”

Mercedes turns and stalks out of the office, not bothering to look back when Coach starts rambling into her megaphone about the history of the sex appeal of the gender-appropriate cheerleading uniform, whatever that means.

“So, what was all that about?” Kurt asks, smoothly falling into step with her as they head to English together.

“Sue wants me in a skirt. I told her no.”

Kurt frowns at her, but doesn’t stop walking. “I don’t get why you can’t just put on the skirt. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. Like, yeah, I miss my sparkly tops and my high tops, but I’m still wearing the uniform. It’s all part of being on a team.”

“It’s not like that for me. I’m not doing it because I think the skirts look bad or anything. I’m doing it because I’m a sixteen-year-old girl, and I don’t feel comfortable walking around in public in a mini skirt. Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

“Listen, I’m totally on your side here,” Kurt says, throwing his hands up defensively. “But you’re never going to get Sue to change her mind. You’re better just giving in now and wearing the stupid skirt.”

“I threatened to quit.”

This time, Kurt does stop walking. “You did what?”

Mercedes winces. She really thought Kurt would have her back with this one. “I kind of… threatened that we’d both quit.”

Kurt’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “You did _what_?” He starts walking again, this time at a much faster pace than before, and Mercedes almost has to jog to keep up. His words are coming out even faster. “What were you thinking, Mercedes? Don’t you realize what an opportunity this is for me? I could end this year with three national championships. Which is probably the only thing that would actually give my resume enough weight to get me into a decent school and you’re putting that in jeopardy because of a fight that has nothing to do with me?”

“Excuse me for thinking one of my best friends would have my back on something that really matters to me.”

“I never said I don’t have your back. I just think you’re being completely unreasonable here.”

They get to class and Mercedes shoots a glare at Kurt when he tries to sit down in his usual seat next to her. Sighing, he gets the hint and goes to sit with another Cheerio across the room, who smiles up at him when he sits down next to her. Mercedes feels nauseous.

***

Rachel has a lot to worry about right now, but she is choosing the blissful haven of repression for the time being, because Regionals is coming, and even with Jesse on their side, she can’t afford to slack off for a single day. She’s absentmindedly humming Journey under her breath as she hurries to the auditorium for rehearsal. In a rare burst of common sense, and with some prodding from Kurt, Mr. Schue decided they should start practicing there in order to really get a sense of what their numbers will look like on a stage. 

She rounds the corner to the auditorium doors, and is reaching for the handle when a siren goes off, and the unmistakable voice of Sue Sylvester fills the hallway. “Attention, students of McKinley High.” Rachel looks up at the source of the noise as the PA speaker continues to crackle out Sue’s message. “As of this moment, I have rigged all of the auditorium doors with a 100 volt charge.” Rachel immediately yanks her hand back, cradling it to her chest. “Anyone who attempts to open the doors will not be considered a liability of the school. This will be your only warning.”

Needless to say, Rachel finds herself amongst a crowd of angry voices in the choir room not ten minutes later with an apologetic Will Schuester telling them that while he did get Coach Sylvester to turn off the electric current attached to the door handles, the auditorium is still not theirs to use for the rest of the year.

“How are we supposed to prepare ourselves for Regionals if we can’t even practice on a real stage?” asks Jesse, and Rachel nods her agreement. “I mean, what kind of school gives their cheerleaders access to the auditorium, but not their show choir? It really makes me question the leadership skills of the faculty here,” he says with a pointed look at Mr. Schue, who doesn’t even seem to register the insult.

Finn steps forward, looking angry, but before he gets a chance to open his mouth Artie comes bursting through the doorway. “Guys, I think I found a place where we can practice!”

“There’s this roller rink near my house that I’ve been to a few times. I see that look Kurt; don’t even think about trying to judge me. Anyway, you’ll never guess who just bought it. Rachel, we’re going on a field trip.”

Rachel has no idea what’s going on, but Artie has already spun around, and is heading for the exit. Rachel looks helplessly around for Kurt, but he just shrugs and waves a hand towards the door, so Rachel follows Artie into the parking lot.

One incredibly awkward car ride with Mrs. Abrams later, Rachel and Artie are looking up at the decrepit neon sign brazenly christening the worn brick building in front of them ‘Rinky Dinks.’

“Artie, can you please explain to me why you’re being so cryptic about this?”

“So, I guess I should warn you. The reason I didn’t want anyone else knowing is because I don’t know how happy they’re going to be about who we’re getting to lend us this space. She’s a little… unhinged?”

“Artie, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” says Rachel, tipping her head to the side, “but frankly, you’re starting to worry me.”

“Just, follow me. You’ll see.”

Rachel supposes she doesn’t have much of a choice, unless she wants to be stranded here alone, so she follows Artie through the doors. The interior of the roller rink is dim and dusty and reeks of stale beer. “You come here willingly?”

Artie looks a little sheepish. “I play in the band sometimes. It’s a little bit cathartic to watch people on wheels struggle to get around.”

Rachel doesn’t know what to say to that, so she doesn’t say anything, and instead looks around to the stage along the back wall across from the bar. It looks big enough to accommodate their choreography if nothing else. She’s about to ask Artie who the mysterious owner of this dump is, then she catches sight of a familiar head of blonde curls, and her jaw drops.

It seems the blonde has noticed her too, because suddenly she’s got a mic in her hand. “My word, is that who I think it is? Everyone, give it up for McKinley High’s own Rachel Berry and Artie Abrams. Get on up here, sugars. Let’s sing a little song.”

Rachel and Artie exchange panicked glances, but there’s not really much they can do with the bar’s few patrons all staring at them expectantly, so they slowly head up to the stage where April Rhodes is queuing up a song on the ancient karaoke machine. “Alrighty girls, I have got a great song for us to sing. A real crowd pleaser,” she exclaims, shoving microphones into both of their hands.

Bruce Springsteen’s _Fire_ starts filtering through the overhead speakers, and Rachel opens her mouth to protest that maybe this isn’t the most appropriate song for two high schoolers and a middle-aged alcoholic to sing together, but April has already launched into the opening chorus.

_“I'm driving in my car, I turn on the radio  
I'm pulling you close, you just say no  
You say you don't like it, I know you're a liar  
'Cause when we kiss…”_

Artie and Rachel join in, and they take turns, making their way through the song, and it’s still awkward, but Artie holds Rachel's hand and twirls in place. By the end, they’re both giggling and dancing around each other, and Rachel feels more relaxed around Artie than she thinks she ever has.

April stumbles over to them, margarita in hand, with a huge grin on her face. “Well ladies, color me impressed. That was beautiful!”

Rachel can’t help but grin back. Artie is a bit more cautious. “So, Rachel, like I said earlier, April just bought this place and I think we could probably come up with a solution everyone would benefit from.”

“Solution to what? What’s the problem, honey?” asks April, already waving them off the stage and towards the bar.

“Well, we kind of lost our auditorium, and we need a place to practice for Regionals.”

“Lost it? How do you lose an auditorium?” asks April, listing slightly to the side, even as she waves the bartender over. She pats the sticky bar stool next to her, and Rachel grimaces as she smooths her skirt to ensure that not a centimeter of exposed skin actually comes into contact with the cracked pleather cushion. Artie gives her a smug look, and flips down the brakes on her chair.

“What Rachel means to say is that the school’s not letting us practice there anymore. We were wondering if we could use the stage here? Just a few times a week? Before you open?” Artie talks slowly, as if April were a small child, but understanding bloom’s on April’s face, so Rachel doesn’t judge.

“Babycakes, don’t you worry about when we’re open. I’m happy to support kids in the arts. You give me a schedule and I’ll work around you.”

“Isn’t that bad for business?” Rachel asks, and she doesn’t even need Artie to swat at her to realize that that was a stupid question to ask.

“Oh, sweetie, you don’t have to worry about what’s bad for business. This whole place is bad for business. It’s a karaoke roller derby in central Ohio. We lose thousands a night,” April cackles a bit before continuing, “I went and got myself a sugar daddy, is what I did. Oh, New York was fine, but Broadway wasn’t ready for me, and I was sick of squatting, so I went and found myself a grumpy old tycoon and badda bing badda boom Buddy Leibowitz of Leibowitz Strip Malls gives me whatever I need to keep this place afloat. It’s perfect!”

The looks Artie gives Rachel when they lock eyes is enough to confirm that she regrets this field trip just as much, but they have a practice space now, and Rachel supposes that’s all that really matters.

***

Finn is already in a bad mood when he’s woken up at nine in the morning on a Sunday by the sounds of heavy boots tromping through the living room. After Rachel and Artie left on their weird secret mission, Jesse just had to open his big mouth and spew some condescending bullshit that made him see red. If Santana hadn’t stepped in and told him to shut up, Finn isn’t sure what he would have done.

More thumping, louder this time, drags him out of bed and into the hallway. “Mom?” he calls, “What’s going on?” He stumbles into the living room, where two men are trying and failing to fit a headboard through the door frame.

“Mom?” He pokes his head into the kitchen and finds her at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee.”Why are they getting rid of your headboard?”

“I bought a new bed. Why? Is there a problem?”

Is there a problem? Finn trudges over to the coffee machine, ignoring his mother’s pointed look, and pours a cup for himself. Just to give him something to do. “That’s yours and dad’s honeymoon set! I was conceived in that bed!” He curses when the hot coffee sloshes over the rim of his mug and onto his hand.

His mom just gives him another look before answering, “Finn, you were conceived on a pinball machine.” Finn frowns for a second, but decides not to ask. “Anyway,” she continues, “Burt Hummel and his son are coming over for dinner tonight. I know you two know each other, so I’m sure you’ll be civil and behave like the nice young man I raised.”

“Why did you invite your mechanic to dinner?” Finn asks as he snags a piece of toast from the plate on the table.

“Come on Finn. I know you’re old enough to know that he’s not just my mechanic.”

“What do you mean?” Finn swallows the rest of the toast and really looks at his mom for the first time all morning. She’s styled her hair differently, and she’s got on a full face of make-up on a weekend. He also realizes she’s wearing skinny jeans that he’s definitely never seen her in.

“Finn… it’s been sixteen years since we lost your dad. I’m ready to move on, and I’ve found someone who I’m ready to move on with.”

He pushes his chair back with a loud screech and walks abruptly into the living room, ignoring his mother’s calls for him to come back and talk to her. He walks straight past the movers, completely ignoring them, and grabs the urn off of its place on the mantelpiece. He’s halfway to the hallway when his mom catches up to him.

“Finn, honey, where are you going?”

“To flush Dad’s ashes down the toilet.”

“Wha- Finn!” She rushes after him and squeezes her way between him and the bathroom door. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, but clearly you have! You’re erasing him, Mom. You got rid of his chair last week, now yours and dad’s bed. Why shouldn’t this be next?” he asks, gesturing with the urn clutched tightly in his hands.

“Finn. Listen to me.” She holds her hands up in a placating gesture. “I loved your father so much. You know that. And I love you even more, but that chair was almost twenty years-old and no one ever even sits in it anymore because the cushion was so worn out. That bed was even older. I’m not trying to erase your father, but I need more than just ghosts.” She slowly reaches out and takes the urn from his arms. “I haven’t felt the way I feel about Burt since before you were born, and I need you to at least give him a chance. For me?”

Finn mumbles something incoherent before shuffling back into his room. He’s angry and tired and he doesn’t know what to do, so he just flops down in bed and resolves to sleep the day away.

Unfortunately, the hours pass much quicker than they have any right to, and he’s still groggy and tired after he’s showered and gotten dressed. He doesn’t even think when he hears the doorbell ring, he just goes to answer it.

“Hi, Finn. Nice to officially meet you. I’m Burt Hummel,” a man in a nice button down and slacks says, offering a hand, which Finn takes wearily. Behind him, a sullen-looking Kurt with a shimmery jacket thrown on over a nice shirt and tie makes Finn rethink the t-shirt and jeans he threw on just a few minutes ago.

He steps aside as his mom bustles in to greet Burt, and Finn makes a point of looking away as she kisses him on the cheek before ushering them all into the cramped dining room. “I’m sorry if it’s a bit tight. Normally, Finn and I just eat in the kitchen, so I’ve been using this room as more or less a home office.” She grabs the chair sitting at the computer desk and pulls it back to the table so that all four of them can fit. The table is covered in a full spread: pork chops, potatoes, green beans, biscuits. Finn temporarily forgets that he’s supposed to be upset about this whole thing.

He snaps out of it when Kurt elbows him in the side. “You’re drooling.”

He quickly wipes at his chin as his mom brings in a pitcher of iced tea and they all begin to serve themselves. “So,” Burt begins between mouthfuls, “you’re on the football team with Kurt, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess.” Finn doesn’t lift his head from his plate as he rips into his third biscuit.

“You know, I used to play when I was your age. That was before I busted up my knee. But I’ve been to your games; you’re really good, you know? If you keep that up, you could really get somewhere with that.”

“You think so?” Finn actually looks up this time to see Burt smiling at him.

“You know,” Kurt says, clearing his throat, “they weren’t actually winning any games until I joined as a kicker, Dad.”

Burt mutters for Kurt to be easy but Carole jumps in with an, “Oh yeah, I don’t know too much about football, but you’ve got one hell of a kick, son.”

“Don’t call me son.” Kurt’s voice is lower than Finn has ever heard it, and the whole table goes silent for a moment as he and his father glare at each other from across the table. Burt seems to win whatever silent argument they were having because Kurt just sighs and goes back to his green beans.

“As I was saying, Finn, I sell tires to one of the assistant coaches of the Browns. I could try to swing us some tickets if you’d be interested.”

Finn’s fork drops. “You mean like a live NFL game?”

Burt smiles, nodding. Finn flashes a look at his mom but she’s smiling encouragingly too so he turns back to Burt. “I’d love that.”

***

Mercedes is still wearing pants when she shows up to Cheerios practice for the upcoming pep rally. They’re in the auditorium now, because according to Coach Sylvester, the gym needs to be completely remodeled in her image before she’s willing to hold another pep rally there.

Mercedes is, unsurprisingly, benched, and is sitting sullenly watching as Kurt is given the duet they were supposed to be sharing, who is paying absolutely no mind to how miserable she is. She’s so caught up in her spiral of self-pity that she doesn’t even notice Quinn stepping up to take a seat beside her on the bleachers. “I heard you got benched.”

“Was it Kurt? He has no business telling other people my problems.”

“No, it wasn’t Kurt. Becky Jackson, Coach Sylvester’s freshman protege, ran into me on the way to practice. Told me there must be something wrong with the choir room air if we’re all so willing to risk our spots on the best competitive cheer squad in the country.”

“Oh. I guess she would do that. Those two really are exactly alike. It’s scary.” Mercedes shivers just a little at the thought that Becky is being trained to become just as much of a monster as her idol. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I didn’t just suck it up and wear the skirt?” She gives Quinn a bitter look, but Quinn has eyes only for her ex-teammates.

“No.” Mercedes doesn’t actually think she’s going to continue. She pauses for so long. “I get it, you know. I may have been one of the hottest girls in school, but I was also the president of the Celibacy Club. I wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of wearing a mini skirt twenty-four seven at first either.”

“But you decided to anyway. And you owned it too.” Mercedes tries a tentative smile, and is surprised to see Quinn return it.

“I didn’t really have a choice, did I? Cheerleading was my only real shot at being somebody. And yeah I got used to it. I’d kill to be back in one right now, but that doesn’t mean you should have to. You’ve got the whole Glee Club at your back.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to say that.” Mercedes looks back down at Kurt again as he practices his high kicks and stretches his leg as far up as it will go against a wall. “Kurt thinks I should just suck it up and do what Coach says.”

“I know you’re a lot closer with Kurt than with me, I hope you won’t mind me saying that Kurt’s an idiot. I know Sue Sylvester better than anyone, and if you give her an inch, she’ll take a mile. She’ll break you down until she’s all that you have left. And then, when you step out of line, she’ll dump you.” A bitter smile twists at Quinn’s lips as she almost unconsciously puts a hand to her stomach. “I don’t even know why I’m still here, watching these practices. I’m far enough along now that I wouldn’t be out there by now anyway. Kind of hard to toss a girl in the air when she’s thirty pounds heavier than she was at the start of the year.”

“So what you’re saying is, Coach is gonna cut me no matter what I do.”

“Not necessarily. If there’s one thing I lacked that could have made a difference in Coach’s mind, it’s bravado.You know, big gutsy moves that will call her out on her crap. I think I have an idea, but it’s risky. How well do you know Christina Augilera’s _Beautiful_?”

***

Kurt is exhausted by the time he gets to Rinky Dink for rehearsal after school. This is ridiculous; they shouldn’t have to be practicing in a bar that’s basically one match away from spontaneous combustion. It’s got to be some kind of liability, but Mr. Schue jumped at the idea, so here he is.

He’s not exactly looking forward to seeing Mercedes, whose performance of _Beautiful_ at the pep rally was absolutely breathtaking. He tried to go up to her afterwards, but she was gone before he got the chance to talk to her.

He’s really not looking forward to seeing Finn. Sunday had probably been the worst dinner of his life, and Finn just had to go and jump sides on him. He figured they could at least find common ground in hating each other’s parents. It’s not even like his dad’s bribe was remotely subtle.

He wraps his letterman jacket tighter around the thin material of his cheer uniform and steps through the sliding doors, almost gagging in the process. The place reeks of alcohol, and even the thought of ever drinking again is enough to give him a phantom hangover. Rachel, ever oblivious to anything that isn’t her precious Glee Club, runs over to drag him up to the stage. Is he really being fair with her right now? No. But he’s moody and she didn’t even stop to think that Kurt might not want to rehearse in a bar owned by April Rhodes, so he thinks he’s allowed to be a little bit of a bitch as long as he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“Come on Kurt! Everyone’s putting on skates!” Rachel has him dragged halfway to the counter before he can wrench his hand away.

“Thanks Rachel, but I think I’ll sit this one out. The, uh, the smell of alcohol still makes me pretty light-headed.”

Rachel falters and her face kind of crumples a bit. “I’m so sorry, Kurt. I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine.” He waves her off before adding, “Go have fun; I’ll start organizing the sheet music.”

She hesitates for a moment, but Jesse calls her name from the rink and off she goes. Some country pop song that Kurt doesn’t recognize blares through the speakers as the rest of the club filters through the doors and joins in the fun. At one point, Rachel ducks and skis straight between Jesse’s legs before he grabs her hand and twirls her up to press against his chest. Ew. At some point Rachel and Artie hold hands and spin in a circle, both with their heads thrown back laughing. Kurt wonders absently when that happened.

At some point, the karaoke machine gets turned back on, and somehow Kurt finds himself dragged up on stage. He really has no idea what possesses him to pick the song that he does, but he’s really not in the mood to sing anything upbeat, so he programmes in his choice and steps back.

_“A chair is still a chair  
Even when there's no one sitting there  
But a chair is not a house  
And a house is not a home  
When there's no one there to hold you tight  
And no one there you can kiss good night”_

A couple of people stop skating to give him funny looks, but then Lauren grabs Puck and they begin a slow skate, and everyone else just plays along. Kurt takes that as his cue to keep going, and he finds by the end of the song that he actually feels a little better. A little indulgence really does do wonders for the mood.

By the end of rehearsal, Rachel’s actually gotten him out onto the rink, and he’s smiling as she grabs his shaky hands and leads him in a slow circuit. His legs wobble, but he doesn’t fall, so he takes it as a win. He grabs the railing and brings them to a stop when he sees Mercedes watching them. “Hey, I’m going to go talk to Mercedes real quick. Cheerios stuff.”

He gives Mercedes a small wave as he heads over to her and then immediately falls on his ass. So much for playing this cool. “Hi,” he says, pulling himself up onto the bench and unlacing his skates.

“Hi,” she clips, but he can hear the laugh she’s trying to suppress.

“I uh, I tried to come and find you after the pep rally.”

She goes to sit next to him and hold out a hand for him to take. “I know you did. That’s why I disappeared. Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled you into my battles, but you need to understand how much this meant to me.”

“I do. Or, at least, I’m trying to. Either way, it wasn’t fair of me to completely turn on you. I’ve been stressed lately, which I know isn’t an excuse but, I don’t know. I don’t want to lose the few constants I have left.”

“Well, I’m one of those constants,” she says, squeezing his hand, “and I’m not going anywhere. You need a ride?”

“Nah.” Kurt’s stomach turns a little. “My dad’s picking me up. I think we need to have a serious conversation, and he always likes to do those in the car.”

She wishes him luck and he heads out into the parking lot where his dad is idling by the curb. “Hey kiddo. How was practice?”

“ _Rehearsal_ was great, dad.” Kurt grabs the slingshot handle and uses it to haul himself up into the truck. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Kurt, you know I love you more than anything in this world. And all I want is for you to be happy. But, I think I deserve to be happy too. And Carole, she makes me happy. Why can’t you just give this a chance? Do you really hate her so much?”

“I don’t hate Carole. I wish you hadn’t picked the mom of the quarterback, but I don’t actually hate either of them.” His dad keeps his eyes on the road, and so does Kurt. It’s easier this way.

“So, what was with the attitude at dinner, then?”

“You know, you could have invited me to that Browns game. Or any game. I would have said yes.”

His dad actually does look over at Kurt for a second. “Come on Kurt, it was just a little guy talk. I was trying to bond with him.”

“You do realize I’m a guy, too, don’t you? You can talk to me about football Dad. I mean, Jesus Christ I’m literally on the football team.” Kurt does his best to keep his voice level and keeps his eyes trained on the road.

“You’re right,” he says, pulling into the driveway, “I should have asked you to come too. I could still probably get another ticket if you wanted.”

“It’s fine Dad. I have Regionals to worry about.” He swings down onto the driveway and leaves the front door open behind him as he goes.

***

Rachel tries to duck behind a dumpster when she spots a head of blonde curls running at her through the parking lot, but it’s too late. “Rachel!” shouts April Rhodes, skidding to a stop in her four inch hot pink stilettos. Rachel absently wonders how she does that. “Rachel, you’ll never guess what happened!”

“Aren’t you not supposed to go within one hundred feet of a school building anymore?”

“What? No silly, that was my identical twin cousin,” she says with a very over exaggerated wink, “I would never give alcohol to minors.”

“Right,” says Rachel. “Listen, I really appreciate everything you’re doing for the Glee Club, but I really don’t want to get in trouble if I’m seen with you here. Suspensions can result in disqualification from competitive show choir, and I absolutely cannot risk that.”

“Oh, no sweetface, I’m allowed to be here on account of I now own part of the building.” She throws her hand haphazardly into the air, but Rachel has absolutely no idea what the gesture is supposed to mean.

“You… what?”

“Come with me,” April squeals, dragging Rachel behind her into the building. “Look!” They come to a stop in front of the auditorium doors and Rachel sees the plaque that has been installed above them.

“The April Rhodes Civic Pavilion?”

“Well, sugarbean, you remember I told you about Buddy Leibowitz of Leibowitz Strip Malls?” At Rachel’s confused nod, she continues, “Well, his wife calls me up the other day. Turns out, he’s suffered a massive stroke and now he’s dead as a doorknob.” Rachel begins to offer her condolences, but April waves her away. “Don’t you see what that means? His wife gave me two million dollars in hush money so I wouldn’t try to sell our affair to the press or something ridiculous like that.” She claps a hand over her mouth. “I think telling you that violates my contract, but you won’t tell anyone, will you?” She doesn’t even wait for Rachel’s nod this time before barreling on. “Anyway, I bought you guys this auditorium so it’s yours to use forever, and I’m using the rest to go to Broadway and open the first ever all-white production of _The Wiz_!”

“Wow, Ms. Rhodes, thank you so much! I can’t even tell you how grateful I am.”

“Oh, I’ve got an idea. How about you gather all your little friends and we can do a farewell number together, hmm?”

Rachel doesn’t exactly feel like she can say no to that, so she does her best to round everyone up before homeroom ends. They all head to the auditorium where April arranges them in a line for the finale number.

_“When I think of home  
I think of a place where there's love overflowing  
I wish I was home  
I wish I was back there with the things I been knowing”_

Somehow, Rachel has allowed herself to get sandwiched between Quinn and Lauren, and she takes a tiny step closer to Quinn. Lauren has threatened to break the kneecaps of anyone who steps on her toes and Rachel needs her kneecaps if she ever wants to play Fanny Brice on Broadway.

_“Wind that makes the tall trees bend into leaning  
Suddenly the snowflakes that fall have a meaning  
Sprinklin' the scene, makes it all clean”_

Quinn shoots her a sharp look, but doesn’t make any move to widen the minuscule gap between them as they sway and step in place. Rachel hadn’t even noticed how much tension she was holding in her shoulders until she felt them relax.

_“Living here, in this brand new world  
Might be a fantasy  
But it taught me to love  
So it's real, real to me”_

Every time Rachel feels like she’s finally wrapped her head around where she stands with Quinn Fabray, she is violently proven wrong, and she has no idea what to do with that except to shove it all down and focus on who sounds pitchy in the final notes of the harmony.

_“And I've learned  
That we must look inside our hearts  
To find a world full of love  
Like yours  
Like me  
Like home…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: April's next appearance in the show is in Season 2's Rumors. It's too early to say how we'll be handling her then, but it's also safe to say she'll be making another appearance in our canon as well.
> 
> Burt and Carole met during Regionals, where they watched their sons perform together. Kurt did not set them up. He does not have a crush on Finn.


	17. Bad Reputation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Jesse's joined the New Directions and now everything's more messed up than it was before. Which they all thought wasn't possible. Kurt's been feeling pressure from all sides with Finn getting closer to his dad, the Cheerios requiring more from him, and the football team slowly losing whatever image of Kurt that's been keeping him safe. With Regionals coming up, The Unholy Trinity has been split between focusing on the Cheerios, helping out the Glee Club, and tip-toeing around whatever's happening with Rachel, Jesse, and Finn.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Pride Month! 
> 
> We're nearing the end. Here's hoping the New Directions can figure things out before Regionals.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

_“All right stop  
Collaborate and listen  
Ice is back with my brand new invention  
Something grabs a hold of me tightly  
Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly” _

“Shannon turn off that Godforsaken song and meet me at the water coolers,” Coach Sylvester yells into her bullhorn.

“Sue, the guys like to have music on during practice and I don’t get to pick which songs come on. Also I’m right here!” Coach Shannon says before Coach Sylvester can bring her bullhorn up to her mouth again.

They’re nearing the end of the season and both the Titans and the Cheerios are working overtime. The Titans are prepping for the playoffs, and after being rejuvenated by the power of Madonna, the Cheerios are gearing up for State this weekend. A lightning in a bottle season. One mistake for either team could ruin it all, and as captain of the competition squad, the weight of it is all on Santana’s shoulders.

She looks over at Brittany, who’s been watching the exchange between the Coaches alongside her. Brittany doesn’t seem worried at all. She just smiles at her, and Santana instantly feels lighter.

Coach Sylvester hands Santana her bullhorn. Which, given the unusual heat spike this week, is surprisingly untouched by sweat. “It doesn’t surprise me that your group of beasts decided to place the worst song by William Schuester’s icon on a playlist that’s already as mediocre as the average Lima resident. I have never seen a dumber pack of men, not accounting for one of the numerous times I have attended the Democratic National Convention. Specifically during the years 2008, 2004, 2000, 1996-“

“I can’t give you Kurt. I need all the time I can get with him,” Coach Shannon says, “Yeah, they’re a bunch of knuckleheads but they’re my bunch of knuckleheads and we actually have a shot at a state championship this year.”

“As much as it goes against my nature, Al Gore, I’m going to try to reason with you.” Coach Sylvester gestures towards Santana for her bullhorn back, and once it’s in her hands, she lifts it up to her mouth. “The boy just kicks the ball.”

Santana rolls her eyes. The coaches have been fighting nonstop ever since Principal Figgins split the field between the two of them for their practices. Coach Shannon calls for Kurt and the look on his face tells Santana he knows exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“Sorry to take you out of practice Pumpkin,” Coach Shannon says to Kurt, sounding like a doting mother. “Coach Sylvester and I are trying to decide what to do with you now that the practices are at the same time.”

Kurt nods. “That’s understandable. I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

“Coach Shannon, we need Kurt more,” Brittany pipes up. “He doesn’t know anything about cheerleading and he’s on-track for the next game.”

Coach Shannon looks at Kurt. “I don’t see why he needs to be. You have plenty of cheerleaders Sue. Not to mention that I’ve seen Kurt and Mercedes come to your practices and just sit on the bench until you need them to sing a tune or something.”

“I don’t have the energy to point out the hypocrisy of your statement so I’ll just let Porcelain here decide what he wants to do,” Coach Sylvester says.

“I’ll just practice with the Cheerios for the first half of practice and then come back. As much as I have a long way to go until I master the art of kicking a football, I would rather not make a fool of myself more than I already have on this field,” Kurt says dryly. 

Coach Shannon frowns. “Are you sure Pumpkin?”

“Take him back to the bleachers,” Coach Sylvester says before Kurt can reply. 

Santana loops an arm around one of Kurt’s and Brittany does the same with his other. Mercedes has already taken a seat on the lowest row, idly scrolling through her phone. She perks up when she sees the three of them. After the skirt debacle, Coach has made it so that Mercedes spends as little time on the field as possible. Only letting her get off the bench to sing a duet with Kurt or to prove to the school board that she doesn’t have only one person of color on the team.

“Alright you two,” Santana says as Mercedes walks down to meet them on the track. “Since you’re still newbies, Aunties Snix and Brit are here to educate you.”

“Is there any point in teaching me any of the cheers?” Mercedes asks. She tosses her phone onto the grass below the bleachers, apparently too lazy to open her bag, mindful of the student smokers that perpetually hang out under there.

“Not really.”

“Then I’ll just sit and watch. I don’t care.”

Brittany had taken a seat when Mercedes was talking. Kicking her legs out and fully bending over, she asks, “You don’t want to learn how to do a back-handspring or a split? I read in a magazine once that breaking one of your bones resets your chakras.”

“Neither of those requires you breaking a bone,” Santana corrects hastily. A sprained wrist or ankle, maybe, but if someone were to break a bone on this squad, it wasn’t going to be from a simple gymnastics trick. She doubts Coach would want either Kurt or Mercedes to injure themselves anyway, even with her vendetta against the Glee Club.

She could be wrong, of course. She’s been wrong before. Especially in regard to Coach Sylvester’s thought processes.

“Coach says it teaches discipline,” Brittany points out as she sits back up. 

“Can you do a split Santana?” Kurt asks.

Santana slides easily into one, and reminds herself to get Kurt and Mercedes a pair of cheer shoes. Mercedes’ sneakers and whatever gaudy thing Kurt’s wearing will get torn to shreds by astroturf. She doesn’t know how they’ve gone this long without Coach yelling at them for it. 

Brittany grabs her hands to help her back up. All of the extra training she’s been doing on the side for Glee must have made her stronger, because Santana jumps up like a spring. 

“I’ve tried to get her to do one in a dance number for Glee Club but she keeps saying no,” Brittany says.

“Yeah, I get it,” Mercedes says, “Puck is enough of a creep. Now we have to deal with that Jesse guy.”

“See? Someone understands,” Santana teases. She absentmindedly looks down at her hands, still clutching Brittany’s, before quickly breaking their hold. Clearing her throat and avoiding Brittany’s eyes, she says, “Kinda want to see Lady Hummel do one though. Imagine the look on Coach’s face.”

“And it would be cool for a dance number,” Brittany repeats.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. “Not happening. Do you have any idea how much danger I’m in already? I chose to practice with the Cheerios first, sure, but it was a lose-lose situation. Either way, I have to be ‘a girl’ for half of practice.”

Brittany hums, putting her weight into her toes and shifting up and down. “Can Jesse do a split?”

“No,” Kurt says instantly. “It’s one of the only things he can’t do. His hips aren’t flexible enough.”

“How do you know that?” Mercedes asks.

“Show Choir blogs. We still don’t have an article, by the way. All of the ones that mention the New Directions are about just Rachel.”

None of them miss the undertone of bitterness in his words. Santana doesn’t care about Rachel “up-staging” her in the choir room, she has more important things to deal with, especially because she knows she can outclass her when given the chance. She’s more concerned about Jesse, and his charismatic smile and admittedly nice voice. She knows a spy when she sees one.

And if anyone’s going to take down the Glee Club, it’ll be her and Brit.

So she pushes Brittany towards Kurt, knowing that she’ll get him with that pout she always does. With him preoccupied, Santana takes Mercedes off to the side.

“I know you and Artie are planning something,” Santana says, “I see you two hanging out in the choir room before rehearsal. What’s up?”

“Why do you care?” Mercedes asks.

“I thought we were over this.”

Mercedes looks incredulous. “You think a trophy is all it takes to win our trust? Santana, it’s obvious that you’re working for Coach Sylvester. We know you haven’t done anything in a while but you have yet to prove to us you’re loyal to the Club. I guess it doesn’t matter if you know what our current plan is, though. We’re trying to figure out who leaked our setlist for Sectionals.”

Santana feels her blood run cold. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like Mercedes catches on. “Who do you think it is?”

“Not you or Artie,” Mercedes says, “Artie says she kept an eye on you and she didn’t see you do anything. We don’t think it was Finn or Puck either for the same reason.”

She nearly breathes out a sigh of relief. Think fast. It’s a quick calculation, “I may have some information you and Artie might want to hear.”

Mercedes leans in closer. “I’m listening.”

“Losing Sectionals would have been one hell of a distraction, huh?”

“Sure.”

“Now who would need that the most?” Santana asks, smiling, silently praying for forgiveness.

***

Kurt can’t believe he let himself get persuaded like that.

It’s not like he even did anything. All he did was stand there as Brittany showed him the stretches and explained how to do them. Still, he kept looking back at the field, hopeful that the guys weren’t huddled up planning his murder. He was traded off before Santana could teach him any cheers. Which wasn’t something he mourned at all.

Coach Shannon must have sensed the tension because she kept an eye on everyone throughout the rest of practice. She told him to stay on the field to talk about the next few games as the rest of the team headed into the locker room.

It’s mostly empty by the time Kurt gets in. There’s Finn, his hair wet from a quick shower, and a few guys who don’t bother to harass him anymore.

“Hey dude,” Finn says as Kurt rounds the corner. 

“Hey Finn,” he says back.

“What did Coach want to talk about?” He swings a towel onto his head and shakes it vigorously like a wet dog trying to dry off.

Kurt steps back, grimacing when he still gets hit with a few specks. “A few things about next practice. What with the divided time and all.”

“Yeah. Hey, are you actually going to cheer with the girls during games now?” Finn asks. “That’s cool and stuff but you’re staying on the team, right?”

Kurt turns his attention to unlocking his locker. He has to stay. His dad may not care about his involvement in the sport anymore, especially not after he started talking to Finn, but he does. The Cheerios are the best bet when it comes to him landing a national championship, but his involvement in football and Glee in general are perfect additions to his budding college application. That doesn’t even begin to mention whatever protective shield he still has even after joining the Cheerios. They just have to keep winning, _he_ just has to keep winning.

“Yeah,” he eventually answers.

Finn opens his mouth but promptly shuts it, his face scrunching up into that signature confused Finn face. “Yeah that’s- that’s cool bro.”

Kurt pauses, his hands still in the process of turning the lock dial. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” Finn tosses his hair towel onto the bench. “I’m coming over today. I’m thinking about maybe trying to drive again and your dad wanted to help me figure out what kind of car would be the best fit for me.”

“That’s great Finn!” Kurt gives up trying to unlock his locker. It doesn’t even matter. The only thing in his locker is a spare of the Cheerios uniform he already has on. The target on his back. “Really! I’m just so happy that you’re getting along with my dad better than I ever did!”

“Dude it’s not like that,” Finn insists, clearly getting annoyed with him.

“I’m sure it’s not, Finn.” Kurt seethes. 

A small part of him knows it’s not Finn’s fault. None of it is, but he’s the closest thing Kurt can get to a metaphorical punching bag. That damn jacket and that baritenor voice remind him of the two places he almost felt like he had a family. He can’t go on the field without the realization of his time running out looming over him. He can’t step into the choir room without being face-to-face with the very real possibility he might get shoved into the back row again. And now he can’t even go home without hearing the word _Finn_ being tossed around in normal conversation.

“Can you girls shut up?”

Puck’s voice stops everything in the locker room. He walks into their section of the lockers with dirt still streaked on his face. Kurt sees Finn’s hands curl into fists but the forlorn look on his face betrays any hot anger he puts on. “Don’t call us that.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Puck counters. “Get out of here Hummel. I don’t want you staring at my ass when I take all of this off.”

“Gladly.”

Finn grits his teeth. “You don’t have to take that Kurt.”

“He already said he’ll leave,” Puck says, “Besides, I bet Hummel likes taking it anyway.”

“Finn, my dad’s shop closes soon. If you need help picking out a car, you have to leave now.” Kurt tries, hoping he can defuse the situation before it gets too far. Luck must be on his side today, because Finn understands immediately what he wants. Kurt’s able to steer him out of the locker room as soon as Finn throws his stuff into his bag. 

He’s starting to get it now. Kurt’s not a suitable replacement for Puck, he was never going to be. But his dad? His dad who loves watching football games and fixing up cars? He’s perfect.

***

“Alright guys,” Mr. Schue says, throwing his marker up in the air and catching it for the first time in what feels like forever. “As you know, Regionals is right around the corner, and I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure what our setlist is going to be. I got a wonderful suggestion from a faculty member to do _Ice Ice Baby_ by Vanilla Ice, who happens to be one of my idols.”

Among the groans is Artie’s yell of “HELL YEAH!” as Finn high-fives her. Rachel knows she has no place in any song in Vanilla Ice’s discography, and she feels that familiar lick of jealousy when Mr. Schue smiles and winks at Artie.

Still, she’s not worried. Mr. Schue has assured them that he wants to keep _Don’t Stop Believin’_ in their setlist, meaning that she has at least one lead come Regionals.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Jesse says from his seat beside her. “Vocal Adrenaline was thinking about doing a rap medley before I left. I’m still in contact with their coach - for sentimental reasons, of course - and I’m pretty sure that plan is still on.”

Mr. Schue taps his chin with the end of his marker. “Is their coach still Shelby Corcoran?”

Jesse smiles, looking pleasantly surprised. “Yes, actually. Do you know her?”

“Not personally,” Mr. Schue says, “She’s a pretty big name in Show Choir right now.”

“I would say she deserves it, if her prior three national titles indicate anything. You should come check out a practice at some point,” he says, turning to Rachel. “I feel like you could learn something from her.”

Rachel can feel her face warm, and it’s not because of Jesse. Okay, maybe it’s because of Jesse but not in the way someone might think. To be able to learn from someone who’s led their team to glory with ease six years in a row? She can’t deny the appeal of that. Yet, her loyalty is with the New Directions. It has and always will be.

Right?

Mr. Schue runs a hand through his slightly unkempt hair. “Alright. Maybe we’ll try something else then.” He pauses to let Artie boo. “Give me some time to think about things. In the meantime, I’d like for us to practice _Don’t Stop Believin’_ for the rest of rehearsal. I know it’s been a while but think of it as a pop quiz. We’ll see who remembers it the most.”

It turns out everyone does, at first. They easily get into formation; Rachel and Finn in front, Artie off to the side, cradling her guitar, and everyone else behind them. She gets a thrill standing next to Finn in this position again. It reminds her of where it all began, and how simple it all was. She looks to Finn, half-expecting to see him dressed in a red top and jeans, and her heart nearly skips a beat when he looks back. Then she looks to Mr. Schue for the count before seeing Jesse and realizing that he doesn’t have a spot in their formation. 

“Well done guys,” Mr Schue praises. “Brittany, I actually want you and Kurt to switch places now that we’ve heard you harmonize with Santana. So now you’re in the back and Kurt is in the second row... perfect!”

“Actually, may I suggest something Mr. Schuester?” Jesse asks.

“By all means.”

“I think the initial positions were the most optimal. Brittany’s alto voice meshes beautifully with Finn’s baritenor, and I’m afraid that Kurt’s still unable to match the power of Rachel’s voice. Being right next to her will weaken the harmonies.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kurt huffs, stepping up to Brittany’s spot, which she graciously gives up. “I’ll have you know that Rachel and I have dueted more times than you can count and Rachel can tell you herself that our voices compliment each other.”

“I didn’t say that you two don’t compliment each other. I said that, for this song, the notes you’re given get drowned out by Rachel’s notes. In the back, we were able to hear you fairly well, but if we bring you forward, your voice will get lost in the crowd. Especially since you’d be right next to Quinn.”

Kurt’s speechless, and so is Rachel. She was all for Kurt moving up but now she’s not so sure. Mr. Schue doesn’t need any more convincing, sending Kurt back into the back row.

“Welcome back,” Mercedes tells him from her spot behind Quinn. She shares the back row with Lauren and Puck, something she has yet to complain about. From Rachel’s spot, she can see Mercedes eye Quinn before locking eyes with Artie.

“Thank you Jesse. Now, you guys might be wondering where he will fit into our formation. Let’s do a quick runthrough. 5, 6, 7, 8!”

The opening notes feel like home. Rachel taps out the beat on her thigh, a beam growing on her face when Finn steps up to sing his part. He’s a little flat and stumbles on his feet, which would normally frustrate Rachel. It still does, but she’ll forgive him just because of the sheepish smile that comes right after a quick apology. 

Mr. Schue waves away his concerns. “That’s alright Finn. Like I said, I know it’s been a while. You weren’t the only one who was rough. Artie, speed up. You’re behind a beat. Puck, Lauren, try to be more expressive.” He demonstrates, giving them a Cheshire grin.

“I would rather make out with Puckerman than do that,” Lauren says.

The next runthrough is smoother. Finn stumbles again but regains composure fast enough for them to keep going. When they stop, Mr. Schue claps but Jesse doesn’t look impressed. Rachel waits, expecting him to give them more criticism, but it never comes.

“Alright,” Mr. Schue says. “I want to see something. Finn, I’m swapping you out with Jesse.”

“What?” Rachel and Finn say at the same time.

“You know the choral part, and before you ask, I’ve been working with Jesse outside of practice. While I love the way you and Rachel sound together, I think we should try a fresh new sound.”

Finn starts to push back, with added help from Kurt and Mercedes, but all of them are shot down. They think Jesse’s trying to replace Finn but Rachel knows better. Jesse’s testing Rachel. He can kill this part. They all know that. She has to show them that she’s just as good and just as deserving of a national championship title.

_“Just a small town girl  
Livin' in a lonely world   
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere” _

Rachel doesn’t miss a beat, despite her chest burning. It was perfect. When they sing together, she feels so light on her feet that she can fly away. It’s like what she felt at Between-The-Sheets but amplified. The air crackles with energy as they reach the pre-chorus.

 _“Strangers waitin'  
Up and down the boulevard  
Their shadows searchin' in the night   
Streetlight people   
Livin' just to find emotion”  
“Hidin’ somewhere in the night!” _ Their voices soar, and with it, Rachel’s heart.

When they finish, Rachel’s out of breath. Her lungs on fire. Yet she’s ready to go again, and again, and again. She turns to compliment Jesse, but something out of the corner of her vision grabs her attention. Finn, with that look of admiration she melts for. 

“Got it!” Mr. Schue says. All of them wearily cheer, stopping when he continues to say, “I remember what I wanted to try. Have any of you heard the song _Run Joey Run_ by David Geddes?”

***

“This isn’t a date, right?”

Brittany swirls the coffee around in her cup, the foam of the milk slowly breaking down into little pockets of air. Artie watches her, her own mug of coffee trapped between her hands. She watches Brittany take a quick sip, tapping her nails against the ceramic face of the cup.

“Because I’m kind of seeing someone,” Artie says. “We’re not together, it’s a casual thing.”

Brittany doesn’t understand how Artemis, goddess of the moon and maidens, doesn’t have troves and troves of lovers but she can admit that she doesn’t know how being a goddess works quite yet. Sure, Artie’s not really Artemis. She’s just a mortal representation of a goddess. Like all of them are. 

“Hey Brittany? Can you hear me?”

“Hmm? Yes?”

Artie sets her mug down on one of the irreversibly stained tables found in the Lima Bean. “Great. Are we on a date right now?”

Brittany thinks for a moment. “A date is when two people set aside time to be together in a public place with the intent of showing affection toward each other.”

“Okay, cool. We aren’t on a date then.”

“Nope.” Brittany says. “I’ve been on a lot of dates but this doesn’t feel like one.”

Artie came up to her in the hallway earlier today. She said she wanted to talk to Brittany about something, an event Brittany’s been waiting for ever since she got to know Artie. They’ve talked a few times, hung out even fewer, but never long enough for Brittany to gauge what kind of person Artie is. From the data she’s collected so far, Artie is a nice girl that likes a lot of sugar in her coffee but no milk.

“You’ve been on a lot of dates?”

She nods. “With Santana.”

Artie quirks a brow at that but doesn’t say anything. She leans back in her chair. “I’m sure you have. Speaking of Santana, she’s who I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Alright, I love talking about Santana. Did you know her favorite color is pink?” Brittany gushes, “She tells everyone it’s red because she’s scared of being seen as a little girl.”

“No, that’s not what I wanted to talk-” Artie stops and pulls out a pencil from within her ponytail. She grabs a napkin out of the dispenser and quickly scribbles something down before shoving it into the sewn-in pocket of her sweater vest.

“She hated cats before she met Lord Tubbington. Now she tolerates them.”

“Brittany, do you think Santana was the one who gave our setlist for Sectionals out?” Artie asks, slowly. As if she thought Brittany couldn’t understand her.

Which makes her frown. Of course she understands what Artie’s asking. She doesn’t understand a lot of things, but when it comes to Santana, she thinks she knows a fair bit. Now, would Santana like it if she were to tell Artie that yes, it was Santana? Probably not. Does it make her restless to know that Santana never came clean about it like she promised Brittany she would? Definitely.

She wishes Santana would ease up when it comes to the Glee Club. If it wasn’t for Glee Club, neither of them would be able to spend a lot of time with Quinn, who she’s already seeing less and less of lately.

“No,” Brittany answers.

“Okay, ‘cause Mercedes asked Santana about it and she told us that she thinks Quinn did it,” Artie says. 

That’s... that’s not right. Santana would never throw Quinn under the bus to save her own skin. That’s just not right. Brittany looks down at her lap and wrings her hands. At the very least, Santana would have told Brittany she was planning on it. She could have taken the blame instead, and have the Glee Club call her dumb or whatever.

Those are their reputations at this point. Brittany’s stupid, Santana’s a bitch, and Quinn can’t be trusted. What happened to them being smart, kind, and pretty?

“Quinn didn’t do it,” Brittany murmurs, still looking down at her hands.

“We know that,” Artie says, “We even talked to her after rehearsal. She wasn’t happy about Santana insinuating that she did it. Brittany, it’s okay if Santana did it, and it’s okay if you know that Santana did it.”

Brittany looks up and sees Artie’s gentle smile. “Promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

“I promise.”

***

Bagging another state championship title always feels great but it doesn’t come painlessly. Santana’s hair is stiffer than plywood and her face is so covered with makeup that if she stops smiling, her skin will crack. She looks less than flawless but having her hands on another trophy takes her mind off of it.

Mercedes and Kurt’s rendition of _Physical_ by Olivia Newton-John was just the icing on the cake. Coach Sylvester came up with the choreo from scratch, which was surprising to say the least. True to its name, Santana felt like her legs were about to fall off by the end. She stood by, fatigued, when Coach Sylvester gave her interview. Brittany right beside her. Everything as it should be.

Celebrations came right after. The bus was alive with conversation on the way back. 

For Santana, Brittany, Kurt, and Mercedes, however, the congratulations were cut short. They had rehearsal to go to.

“Whatever they put in that foundation is making my skin burn,” Mercedes says, scrubbing her makeup off over the sink.

“It’s supposed to,” Kurt says, delicately using some sort of makeup remover wipe to get rid of the gloss on his lips. “That brand extracts oil from the skin and dries it with movement. I’m impressed. I didn’t know Coach Sylvester knew her way around a Sephora.”

Brittany takes one of his wipes, waiting until Kurt gives her the okay to use it. “I love Sephoras. They’re my favorite kind of hat.”

“Fedora, Britt,” Santana corrects. After rubbing what she could off, she has to pencil in her eyebrows again. One of them is slightly bigger than the other but Santana’s too tired to care. She asks Brittany if they look even and shrugs when she says they’re a little off.

“Hey Brittany? I think I left my bag in the gym, can you go grab it? It’s got my name embroidered on the handle.” Mercedes asks her.

“Sure.”

As soon as Brittany’s out of the bathroom, Kurt and Mercedes turn to Santana, frighteningly synchronized. Santana sighs, going back to correcting her eyebrows before addressing them. She hopes they don’t see her hand shake as she draws a line above the natural eyebrow line. She clears her throat, still checking herself out in the mirror. “Alright Vanessa Williams, what are you and Lady Hummel about to yell at me for? And before you say anything, remember that I’m the reason you can put ‘State Champ’ on your MySpace page.”

“We know you leaked the setlist,” Kurt accuses.

Santana huffs and puts the cap back on her eyebrow pencil. She really thought she had gotten away with it. There’s no point in denying it anymore. “Yeah? What proof do you have?”

“Two confessions from your so-called best friends,” Mercedes says. “I knew the moment you tried to pin it on Quinn that you were full of it. You can say whatever you want to say but know that Quinn and Brittany both said it was you.”

Hearing that Quinn sold her out doesn’t surprise her. It actually makes her feel vindicated, in a way. That Quinn wouldn’t just sit back and take it. Looks like there is _some_ self-preservation inside her. As for Brittany... maybe Santana should feel disappointed or hurt. But she doesn’t, not when she can tell that Brittany is trying to help her become a better person. No matter how futile that is. 

“So what are you planning on doing about it? Gonna tell the rest of the Glee Club that I nearly cost us a Sectionals win because Coach Sylvester would have cut my head off if I didn’t?” Santana challenges. 

The two of them hesitate. Now they know intimately what Coach is willing to do to punish her subordinates. “No,” Kurt says, “Not with what’s already happening in the choir room.”

Santana smiles. “Right. I’m not the biggest problem there anymore, huh? What’s the dirt on St. James?”

“Don’t try to get out of this. We may not be telling the rest of the club about this but we’re still going to hold it against you. After we get Jesse taken care of, you’re back on our radar,” Kurt says.

“But Jesse still isn’t taken care of, is he?” Santana crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the sink. “Take it from someone who’s learned from a master manipulator, Jesse’s got Berry wrapped around his finger. And you’re going to need my help prying her off it.”

Kurt and Mercedes share a look. Santana hasn’t lied, not once. They were expecting more of a fight but if Santana is anything, she’s unpredictable. She couldn’t care less about what’s happening with Rachel and Finn and Jesse, and at this point she might as well add Quinn to the mix.

Still, she has two things at stake now. One of them is her pride, and both are threatened by one Jesse St. James. She’s willing to make alliances. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: We weren't a fan of the Glist for a number of reasons. Thankfully, we had another list that hadn't been taken care of yet.
> 
> Rachel's production of Run Joey Run in canon is one of our favorite cursed scenes in all of Glee. If you've forgotten what it looks like, we highly recommend that you rewatch it.


	18. Laryngitis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Tensions are still high among everyone after what happened at Sectionals. Rachel and Quinn are slowly starting to talk to each other again but both Finn and Puck refuse to take the first step in reconciling their friendship. Kurt, Artie, and Mercedes all know Santana leaked the setlist but they can't do anything about it until Jesse St. James is taken care of. Actually, basically everyone except for Rachel and Finn knows. They've been too busy trying to sort out whatever feelings they think they have toward each other.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We couldn't let Run Joey Run stay as a throwaway line so enjoy its role in the narrative in this chapter.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

Puck has always hated cardio. 

The irony isn’t lost on him - an all-purpose skill player whose value to the team is 90% running really fast hates to get his heart rate up - but the magic is only really there when he’s running for a purpose. When he’s trying to chase down one of Finn’s beautiful spirals before it drops out of the sky, or when he’s outracing eleven goons who really want to avenge their mothers’ honor into the end zone, that’s when he remembers why he runs. 

Burning himself up doing circles around an empty chunk of astroturf, though, that’s pretty much the opposite of magical. He much prefers the weight room for his personal training, but lately the constant chorus of _“Bro, do you even lift?”_ and unnervingly personal questions from Lauren - that girl trains more than anyone he’s ever met and it’s kind of scary - has forced him to switch things up. Between the unbearable tension of sharing a huddle with Finn and the less visceral but still painful sadness of rooming with Quinn, he needs to take every opportunity to be alone that he can get. 

So now he’s running himself ragged long past the hour when he’s technically allowed on the football field and he’s pretty sure his feet can feel the blisters that won’t even form for another hour already. But at least it’s a routine, and he can do it just as well as he always has. It’s one thing in his life he hasn’t completely fucked up, and he’s gonna hang onto it until his lungs collapse. 

He picks up the pace for the final lap like he always does, and as his legs shift gears he finds himself timing his strides to the monstrous earworm that’s been in his head all day and will probably remain there for some time. 

_“Run, Joey run, Joey run, Joey RUN, JOEY RUN, JOEY Run, Joey RUUUUUUUUUN!”_

As he breathes out the last note, he breaks into a dead sprint, crossing the goal line with fire in his legs. He bends over to grab his water bottle, shaking his head as he silently thanks God that no one was around to hear that. 

“So, you too?” 

Of course. The Lord has made it perfectly clear what kind of year he’s in for. 

“What do you mean?” He looks up at Finn warily, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. He’s been able to keep up his front of performative hostility at games and practices, but he’s really not ready for this right now. 

Finn shrugs, leaning against the chain-link fence, his hands in the pockets of his letterman. “No one in the club has been able to get the song out of their heads. Which is a real problem, considering we vowed to never speak of it again.” 

Puck smiles in spite of himself. “Look, just because Rachel had a breakdown and made a scarily competent short film doesn’t mean that _Run Joey Run_ isn’t a great workout song. If you could run faster than Tom Brady, you’d understand.” 

It’s the kind of banter they used to exchange as effortlessly as a handoff, and as Finn’s face darkens Puck curses himself for forgetting that he’s never getting back what he’s lost. 

“Look, I didn’t come here to chat.” 

Puck scowls at the artificial turf. “Yeah, I know why you’re here”

“Kurt stays out of this.” Finn’s voice, normally so gentle, is made of steel. Puck would almost admire it if it didn't feel like a dagger to the chest to have it directed at him. “I don’t know what I did to make you decide you don’t give a shit about me, and to be honest I don’t care. You can hurt me as much as you want, but he’s off-limits.”

Every word feels worse than the hardest hit he’s ever taken, not least because he knows he deserves them all. 

“Yeah, well.” Puck laughs bitterly. “It’s nothing against him. I just figured I’d make it easier for you to replace me.” 

He waits for Finn to yell, or hit him, or something. He’d almost welcome another set of bruises if it meant this conversation didn’t have to continue. 

Instead, Finn just stares at him, and Puck can feel his chest closing up with every beat of silence. 

“Wow. You and Quinn really are perfect for each other.”

Okay, he wasn’t expecting that. 

“I’m sorry, what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Finn starts, then looks away. “I just- never mind.”

The mention of Quinn - who, let’s face it, is pretty much the closest thing to a friend Puck has left, give or take whatever Lauren is - sends a fresh shot of anger surging through Puck’s body. 

“No, no, I get it. She’s the virgin cheerleader who spread her legs and got pregnant with a bastard and I’m the scary black dude who stole her honor. Doesn’t get much more perfect than that.” 

He doesn’t bother disguising the venom in his voice. He knows what all the more-hateful-than-usual glances he gets at school, around town, _everywhere_ for the last several months really mean, but he never would have expected this from Finn, regardless of what he’s done to him. 

Finn shakes his head, his eyes panicked. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry it’s just, what you said reminded me of something Rachel told me about Quinn, but it doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.” 

Puck’s anger evaporates, because he can tell Finn isn’t lying and he suspects he knows exactly what Rachel was talking about. He throws his water bottle to the turf and slowly walks backwards to lean against the fence, keeping a respectable distance from Finn. This is good. He only has to see him out the corner of his eye this way.

“You know I can’t replace you, right? If I could I wouldn’t be this mad at you.” But he can still hear his words. 

“Oh get over yourself. We did you a favor.” He knows he sounds bitter, but it’s better than sounding heartbroken. 

He’s in dangerous territory, but there’s no point in sugarcoating it now. He’s long past the point where any of this was salvageable.

“You and Quinn always knew you were using each other. If I hadn’t broken you up you probably would have gotten hitched senior year and spent the rest of your lives resenting each other and running out the clock on life.” 

He braces for another wave of anger, but Finn just shrinks into himself, which is much worse. No one that huge should ever look so small. 

“Yeah. I know.” His voice carries the kind of sadness that Puck can’t stand - the kind he used to only ever hear when Finn talked about his dad. He pushes back the traitorous flash of hope he feels at Finn actually agreeing with him and tries to lighten the mood with more antagonism.

“Besides, you’ve got fancy Broadway upgrades to both of us now. New girlfriend, new best friend. Hell, if Ohio State doesn’t work out those two just might just drag you to New York to co-star in the world’s gayest revival of _Grease_.” 

It’s the only musical theater joke he can make. Finn has made him watch that movie so many times over the years he can practically recite it. 

Finn scowls, but he releases some of the tension in his shoulders so Puck counts it as a success. “I told you to lay off- ” 

“Relax, dude, it was a joke. And I was talking about Berry.” 

Finn’s eyes widen so fast it’s almost comical. “You don’t think- ” 

“Again, a joke. Are you always gonna be this on edge?” Puck risks a sideways glance, and he can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved that Finn still won’t look at him. 

There’s a much too long silence, and then: “Rachel isn’t my girlfriend.” 

Puck can’t help but smile at how unconvincing it is.

“She would be if you had literally any balls.” He knows he should be treading more carefully, but he can’t help it. They’ve fallen into old patterns in spite of themselves, and he’s going to hold onto this moment until Finn comes to his senses and ends it. 

“Have you not seen how much time she’s spending around Jesse? How am I supposed to compete with that?” Finn grimaces. “Not to mention whatever last week’s disaster was supposed to be.” 

“Dude, trainwreck that it may have been, she did make you the final Joey and give you the dramatic death scene. That means something.”

Finn’s eyebrows quirk up, which is infuriatingly adorable. “Yeah? What did the part where she’s in heaven with Brittany and Santana mean?”

Okay, so maybe Puck wasn’t entirely joking before. But it doesn’t really matter, not yet. If there’s one person who’s deeper in the closet than Quinn, it’s Rachel. “One thing at a time, bro.” 

“Don’t call me bro.”

Puck thinks it must have come out harsher than Finn intended with how shocked he looks at his own words, but the sharp return to the real world, the world where Puck has ruined the best thing he was ever going to have in his pathetic life, is too much. He may have burned their friendship to the ground, but he doesn't need to stay here and sift through the ashes. 

“Right, of course. Sorry, Finn.” His voice sounds like someone else’s and the tears aren’t going to be held in much longer. “I should get going. See you at practice.”

Finn tries to say something, but he’s already gone, his still-sore legs screaming at him as he hits top speed and clears the field gate in an instant. His body is going to punish him tomorrow, but he needs to put as much distance as he can between himself and his quarterback, no matter the cost. 

He really does hate cardio.

***

Rachel honestly didn’t think it was _that_ bad. 

The tension in the club had gotten more intense than she could stand, and it was her job to fix it. She had needed something big to reconcile her fractured teammates, to get her two de facto co-captains on board with their new fourth lead vocalist. And with the help of a very bemused Artie and a very bored Lauren, who had apparently been president of the AV Club this whole time, plus a few stolen costume pieces from the theater department and the backing vocals of a surprisingly cooperative Santana and Brittany, she had actually pulled it off. 

Sure, having Kurt, Jesse, and Finn play the same character who was also supposed to be her doomed lover might have been a bit thematically confused, but since when were lyrics the most important part of performing? They had to have felt the magic of harmonizing on that final crescendo of “ _Run Joey Run._ ” 

But apparently not, because Kurt was angrier with her than ever, and even Finn was starting to pull away - she hadn’t seen him since she played the video for the rest of the club and received nothing but a stunned silence and slightly open mouths in appreciation, the standing ovation from Brittany notwithstanding.

(Now that she thinks of it, maybe she should have explained the concept first before having them record their audio separately.) 

So it hasn’t been the best week, and it really isn’t the best time for Mr. Schue to have assigned “songs that represent where we are in life.” If she didn't have Jesse, she doesn’t know what she would do, because it feels like everyone else in her life is slipping away and every attempt she makes to pull them back just pushes them further out of reach.

And now she’s back in the choir room, standing in front of a slew of faces she’s been avoiding all week, and for the first time in her life she wants to do anything else but sing her truth. But Brad’s piano is already starting, and if she can’t muster the courage to get through this then she’ll have to accept that her star has collapsed completely, so she gathers her resolve as best she can as Jesse sets her up with a soft, chilling “ _Turn around.”_

_“Every now and then I get a little bit lonely and you’re never coming round.”_

She looks to Finn first, but he can’t meet her eyes and she desperately needs a reason to hope right now (“ _Turn around”)._ Her eyes shift to Kurt.

_“Every now and then I get a little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears.”_

Kurt’s eyes are fixed on the far wall. So that’s two best friends she isn’t getting back any time soon ( _“Turn around”_ ). 

In desperation to find an anchor to get her through at least the first verse, her eyes move on their own to stare at Quinn. 

_“Every now and then I get a little bit nervous like the best of all the years have gone by.”_

She finds what she thinks she’s looking for when Quinn holds her gaze without so much as a blink, but there’s something indecipherable in her face that’s too unnerving, and this time Rachel is the one who has to look away. Resigning herself to her failure, she gives up and turns inward to the safety of Jesse.

_“Every now and then I get a little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes.”_

_“TURN AROUND BRIGHT EYES!”_ Jesse’s howl rends the heavens, and the chills it sends down Rachel’s spine offer none of the comfort that her old duet partners did. Even Santana, as awkward as they were together, made her feel warm inside, and this is nothing but cold. But it’s still exhilarating, and maybe this is what she needs right now. She’s never going to make it if she can’t handle a little darkness. 

She matches Jesse note for note, smiling to herself at how good they’ve gotten at syncing their energies, and she’s just about to launch into the chorus when Kurt’s quiet voice cuts through the air and grinds the song to a halt. 

“Rachel.”

She whirls to face him as Brad awkwardly pauses and Jesse looks at Kurt with death in his eyes. She knows he’s mad at her but she can’t believe he would commit such a cardinal violation. 

“What?” 

“You’ve lost your voice.” 

Oh. 

The next several minutes are just about the most humiliating of Rachel’s life. After a series of highly frustrating phone calls, she finds a doctor that has an appointment available that afternoon, but there’s no way her dads can take her on such notice. 

“Anyone willing to give Rachel a ride?’ Mr. Schue asks, and Rachel rolls her eyes because everyone hates her right now and the last thing she needs is to be treated like a child, but before she can ask Jesse she’s preempted by Finn, Kurt, Quinn, and Artie all putting their hands up and she’s blushing harder than she ever has in her life. So maybe she’s overreacted a little - maybe she isn’t as alone as she thought. 

She accepts Finn’s offer with as much humility as she can realistically perform, since he’s stuck by her through everything and she really does need to apologize for at least the _Run Joey Run_ debacle if nothing else. Kurt will have to wait for another day, Quinn will have to wait until she figures out why neither of them are ever able to walk away, and Artie, well, it was sweet of her, but Rachel really doesn’t need to get any more flustered right now. 

She tries to explain herself as Finn drives her to the appointment, but somewhere between “I just think it’s really important that our three male leads realize how great they sound together” and “I gave you the death scene for a reason you know” she realizes this might be more difficult than she thought. 

“Look, Rachel, I get you have a very particular way of expressing yourself, and you know I’ve always been down for these grand musical gestures. But at a certain point you have to be able to talk to us you know? And lately you seem to only want to talk to Jesse. It’s really confusing, and it’s honestly kind of getting me down.” Finn tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “And Kurt would kill me if he knew I told you this, but it’s getting to him too.”

She knows. She knows she’s on the verge of botching her only shot at real friendship and her only shot at love before either even really begins, but she doesn’t know what to do to fix it. Everything she tries only seems to make it worse. 

“Look, I understand that Jesse can be… difficult to work with. But you’ve seen for yourself how well he works with me, and I know he could bring out the best in you and Kurt, if you would just give him a chance-”

“Rachel, he’s an absolute nightmare. He’s got no interest in building team chemistry and he treats everyone who isn’t you like garbage. Even if we needed him to win, would it really be worth it?” 

“Of course it would.” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, but at this point she’s done always being the one to compromise. It’s time for some hard truths. 

“If it ensures we get another year together and gets me one step closer to getting out of here, I wouldn’t care if Jesse St. James was literally the Devil as you seem so convinced he is, I would still need you to be able to get along with him. And frankly, the fact that you can’t put what’s best for the team above your own ego is extremely disappointing.” 

Finn’s eyes flare. “I can’t put the team above _my_ ego?” He takes a deep breath as he stops at a red light, and suddenly Rachel is glad that they’re no longer in a moving vehicle. 

“Rachel, from day one you’ve been taking your teammates for granted and putting yourself at the center of attention. And you know what? I went along with it, partly because you’re so talented, but also because it seemed like you were really starting to care about us. But Jesse brings out the worst in you, and it’s completely undoing all the progress we’ve made. Plus, you don’t even sound that good together.” 

He immediately goes red, no doubt realizing that he’s gone too far, but Rachel isn’t about to let him off the hook. 

“And there it is.” She puts on a contemptuous smile that she thinks even Quinn would be proud of. “Look, I understand that you’re jealous, and I know it must be hard to have to share the male lead with someone more talented than you, but-” 

She sees the look on his face and she slams her words to a halt, but it’s too late. Never in her life has she wanted to erase a moment more than she does now. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

He doesn’t respond, because they both know she’s lying. 

They drive the rest of the way in silence. She can tell he’s fighting back tears, and all she can do is stare at the dashboard, wondering if she really is always going to end up like this, pushing people away, choosing loneliness in pursuit of her dreams. She’s always told herself it was worth it, but it’s never felt less true. 

When they pull into the parking lot, Finn says he’ll wait in the car.

***

If Kurt knew punching bags were this cathartic, he would have become a jock long ago. 

“Stupid Rachel.” _Punch._

“Stupid Finn.” _Punch._

“Stupid.” _Punch._ “Jesse.” _Punch._ “St. James!” 

He tries to throw an extra heavy haymaker, but in his enthusiasm he misses his mark, glancing off the side of the bag and stumbling forward into empty air, only to be steadied by a strong hand that seems like it appears out of nowhere. 

“Dude, that is not how you use one of these.”

Perfect. This is just perfect. 

“Sorry, didn’t know you were in here. I was just leaving.” He wrenches himself out of Puck’s grasp and makes a beeline for the exit but Puck effortlessly catches up and blocks his path. 

“Woah there, MVP, I need to talk to you about something.”

Kurt knows if he freezes up he’s dead, so he makes a hard lateral cut and scoots by him. All those stretches - for the Cheerios and the Titans - seem to be paying off. 

“Yeah, no, I have to, uh, go talk to Rachel about gay shit, I’m sure you can find someone else to entertain your need to be a bully. “

“I’m sorry, okay?” 

The vulnerability in his voice stops Kurt in his tracks. He sighs. “Forgive me if I seem skeptical. You were sorry before, until you weren’t.” 

“My best friend is replacing me and I lashed out. Something tells me you get what that’s like.” 

The words make his blood run cold. There’s no way he’s doing this. The last person on Earth he’s going to discuss this with is Noah Puckerman. 

“Rachel isn’t… Finn isn’t… I’m not… you don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words come tumbling out anyway, and even more incoherently than he feared. He doesn’t even know where to begin. 

“How could I replace you as his ‘best bro’ when I can’t even get my own father to see me as a real man?” Or apparently he does. This is a nightmare; he needs to get out of there now. 

Puck sits down on the bench, his eyes wide but sympathetic. Kurt lingers in the doorway, but can’t bring himself to move. Finally, Puck speaks. 

“Dude, I’ve known Finn his entire life, and I can say for sure that you and Berry are the best thing to ever happen to him. Except now your girl is kind of off the deep-end thanks to the Carmel snake with the fake hair -” Kurt smiles in spite of himself; at least someone gets it - “so now all you’ve got is each other.” Puck frowns. “And look, I don’t know what kind of baggage you’re dealing with at home, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t freeze him out, because I can’t help him anymore.” 

The tension has fizzled, and Puck is being surprisingly thoughtful about this, but Kurt shakes his head. 

“You really don’t get it, do you? I’m walking on eggshells trying to get through high school in one piece. Everything I do to increase my chances of getting out of here just paints a bigger target on my back, something you’ve done plenty to ensure.” Puck looks down, but Kurt doesn’t have time for his guilt. ”So excuse me if I don’t really have it in me to be the rock for a boy who's got more of a support network than I’ll ever have at this school.” 

“Okay, that’s just straight-up bullshit.” 

Kurt bristles. “Excuse me?” 

“Finn doesn’t need a rock. Hell, he’s been the one looking out for you for months, and if he tells the truth he’s madder at me for going after you than he ever was about Babygate.” 

Kurt grimaces, deeply regretting the day that deeply cursed term caught on, but Puck keeps going. “He just needs someone who isn’t gonna drop him at the first sign of trouble. And I would kill for that to be me, but I can only hurt him at this point. I assumed you were up for it, but I guess I overestimated you.” 

Kurt’s face burns, both from the harshness of Puck’s words and the uncomfortable suspicion that they’re entirely true. Still, there’s no way he’s going to admit that here, so he deflects. 

“ _You can only hurt him?_ Is that why you went back to the well of _Now That’s What I Call Homophobia!_ circa 1997, to prove that to yourself? Jesus, no wonder you and Quinn get along so well.” 

“Look, I really am sorry - wait, why does everyone keep saying that, what is Berry telling you guys?” 

“Never mind that.” He’s about to make a very bad decision. “Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll accept your apology, and I’ll tell Finn to give you another chance, especially if he's only shutting you out for my sake.” 

Puck shakes his head, “I’m telling you dude, it’s not worth- “

“In exchange,” Kurt cuts him off, moving to join him on the bench and picking up a weight with more effort than he would have liked, "you teach me how to use these.” 

A very bad decision indeed. Trusting Puck is a terrible idea. But then, trusting Finn and Rachel hasn’t been doing him a lot of favors lately, so what does he have to lose? 

Puck stares at him. “You… want me to help you get jacked?”

Kurt shrugs. “And maybe a few other things to drop the _‘Lady Hummel’_ nickname.”

Something like understanding passes across Puck’s face. “Dude, of course I’ll do it. You’ll be learning from the expert.” 

It sounds like bravado, except for the incredible sadness in his voice. 

Kurt isn’t quite sure why that is, but as he offers his old tormenter a tentative handshake, he feels a surge of resolve that he’s been sorely lacking for a long time now.

He’s done enough relying on other people this year. It’s time to learn to protect himself. 

***

Quinn had thought she was getting a handle on being sad and alone in the midst of all of her former friends. But the last week has taken things to another level and now it’s just kind of unbearable. 

It’s gotten so bad, what with Rachel alienating everyone who’s ever cared about her so fast even Quinn is impressed and the crowded Cheerios table getting tangled in knots of masculine, feminine, and every other kind of insecurity, that it’s almost been a relief to leave school and hang out with Puck, who she’s actually been able to bond with surprisingly well once she finally resigned herself to the reality that he was all she had left. 

And when the aftermath of conceiving a bastard is the easiest drama for her to deal with, things have gone very wrong. 

She sits at the edge of the bottom row of the choir room, since her increasing lack of mobility has made getting up on the riser more trouble than it’s worth, and her being around Santana and Brittany isn’t good for any of them at the moment. But that means she’s stuck next to where Rachel is leaning her head on Jesse’s shoulder, which makes her feel like she’s back in the first trimester with how nauseous she is. Not helped by the fact that the tension in the air is so thick that a knife would probably bounce right off. 

“I’m not saying it’s a bad song choice, just that it really isn’t up to your usual standard.”

Mercedes glares at Santana in response, and Quinn really doesn’t get why Santana is pushing her on this. By now the only reason she’s on thin ice instead of swimming for her life is that apparently everyone in the club has independently decided that Jesse St. James, and his hold on Rachel, is an existential threat that dwarfs all other concerns. 

Quinn has never been prouder of the wisdom of a crowd, but now Santana seems to be taking advantage of her temporary immunity to do...what exactly?

She feels a twinge of shame as she remembers the days when there wasn’t a single Santana scheme that she wouldn't know every detail of, if not be an active co-conspirator in. But she’s driven her friends away as surely as Rachel has, and she didn’t even need an absurdly expensive-looking music video to do it. And as much as she knows it’ll do Brittany and Santana good to be free of her, she’d be a liar if she pretended it didn’t feel like her heart was missing from her chest without them. 

Fortunately, she’s more than comfortable with being a sinner by now. 

“Santana, you wouldn’t be able to sing “my usual standard” if your life depended on it,” Mercedes shoots back, and Quinn quickly realizes what’s going on. 

On the field, Santana is the undisputed alpha whose lead Kurt and Mercedes have to follow in order to survive - _she really is a great captain_ , Quinn thinks wistfully - but in the choir room, that dynamic is decidedly reversed. 

“Please,” Santana scoffs. “Just because I don't feel the need to wrestle Berry for the spotlight doesn’t mean I’m not more than a match for you.”

Sure enough. There’s no scheme, just good old fashioned jealousy. 

Mercedes grins. “Oh, you think you can step to this? Then prove it. It’s a duet, after all.”

“Oh, you are so on.” Santana leaps the riser with more energy than Quinn has ever seen from her in a rehearsal - and okay, that’s kind of weird - and joins Mercedes in the center of the room. 

Quinn smiles to herself. Something this simple, she can manage to enjoy. 

Halfway through though, something shifts. They’ve been trading lines effortlessly - Quinn always knew Santana had a beautiful voice, but she’s honestly kind of shocked at how well she’s holding her own - and when they come together for the chorus Quinn immediately decides that this is her favorite duet pairing yet.

(Her least favorite, if their daily warm-up exercises are any indication, is Rachel and Kurt.) 

But while they started out roleplaying the song’s antagonism toward each other, there have been a few too many glances toward the audience on particularly biting lyrics, and it’s on the second chorus that she figures out the pattern. 

_“You need to give it up, had about enough.”_

Delivered straight to Jesse, whose plastered-on smug grin is doing nothing to hide the nervousness in his eyes. 

“ _It’s not hard to see, the boy is mine._ ”

Sung to each other, but with a knowing gleam in their eyes. A filler line, then, so that they can-

_“I’m sorry that you...seem to be confused”_

Right in Rachel’s face, and Quinn resists the urge to burst out laughing at how wide Rachel’s eyes are, not to mention how quickly she straightens up and wipes her hand against her skirt. 

_“He belongs to me, the boy is mine.”_

It’s the most threatening and least romantic use of the word “mine” Quinn has ever heard, and there’s no letup for the entire rest of the song. 

Rachel and Jesse scoot further and further apart, and when Santana stares down a petrified Jesse to sing _“you can say what you want to say, what we have you can’t take”_ and then pivots to deliver _“Find that truth you can’t escape, I can tell the real from the fake”_ inches from Rachel’s lips Quinn has to bite down on her lip so hard it bleeds, because she’s never seen anyone turn that red that quickly. 

As the song comes to a close with a standing ovation that Quinn gladly joins in, and Santana and Mercedes look surprised to find themselves embracing, Quinn can’t help but admire her former second-in-command. It’s exactly like Santana to come up with a conniving master plan so stealthily executed that even Quinn didn’t spot it at first that ultimately comes down to passive-aggressively intimidating Rachel and Jesse through song, and possibly making Rachel rethink her interest in boys entirely. And the fact that Rachel has to rest her voice to get over her case of mild laryngitis and thus can’t even retaliate is a brilliant exploitation of an opponent’s situational weakness. 

Sure, there’s probably more to it than that - she can practically hear Santana’s explanation of _“Death by a thousand cuts, just like Coach taught us” -_ but she almost hopes there isn’t. It’s ridiculous, it’s petty, and it’s very likely to completely backfire.

It gives Quinn an idea. 

As the New Directions disperse and Quinn delights at the sight of Rachel hurrying out the door before Jesse can follow, she catches up with Noah. 

“Hey, Puck? You can go on ahead, I’ll see you at home.” 

He turns back to her with a smile - she’s finally getting the hang of the nickname, even if it still sounds weird off her tongue. But they are roommates, and she hasn’t hated him for a while now, so she figures it’s only fair she make the effort. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She glances towards where Finn is still packing up. “I’m, uh, gonna try something really stupid.” 

He looks to Finn, then back to her, and she knows he understands.

“Alright. Good luck, bro.” 

(It’s absurd, what they’ve started to build, but it sure beats what they used to have.) 

***

“Not you too.” 

Quinn approaches with her arms raised, as if Finn actually finds her threatening. Which, all things considered, he kind of does.

He clenches his fists. “If Puck put you up to this, I swear to God-” 

“This was my idea, jackass.” 

The casual insult that she used to throw at him constantly when they were dating jars him out of his defensive posture, and he frowns.

“What’s going on?”

“Pu-Noah told me he talked to you.” Finn raises his eyebrows at the slip, but Quinn keeps going. “And that it was a disaster, but it got me thinking. You and I have never cleared the air, and this should have happened ages ago.” 

He thinks he’d rather watch the Rachel Berry Cut of _Run Joey Run_ again, but he knows she’s right. He’s known from the first moment Puck reminded him of the truth he’s always known about him and Quinn. 

He sighs and throws his bag back down, collapsing into his seat. “I get what you’re saying Quinn. But I just, I don’t know how we fix this.”

“We don’t fix it.” He looks up, surprised at the calmness in her face. “We lay it to rest.” 

So maybe this whole fiasco has matured Quinn more than he realized. He wishes he could say the same for himself. 

But maybe it’s not too late. 

“We never should have gotten together.” Admitting it to himself, or even to Puck, was one thing, but saying it directly to Quinn takes a weight off his chest he didn’t even know was still there. 

Quinn takes a seat next to him. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I knew we were built on broken foundations from the beginning, and I used your sincerity against you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

The words are sad, but Finn can tell the apology gives Quinn the same relief. 

He tries for a smile and is relieved to see Quinn return it. “Look, I know it’s what you do, but don’t go hogging all the blame for yourself. I mean sure, I convinced myself we had something real, but I was also a pretty shallow idiot who just wanted to get into your pants.”

Quinn laughs, and it’s a brighter sound than he’s ever heard from her. “I still can’t believe you went to all those Celibacy Club meetings.” 

“Well, like you always taught me,” Finn makes the sign of the cross, trying and failing to keep a straight face. 

_“It’s all about the teasing and not about the pleasing.”_ They finish together, and soon they’re both laughing so hard Finn needs to grab tissues from Mr. Schue’s desk to wipe away their tears. 

For the first time in forever, Quinn takes his hand. “You still cross yourself backwards.” 

Finn gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know.” 

They sit in silence for a while, before Finn realizes something else. 

“It was real at the end, wasn’t it?” 

Quinn looks up at him. “As a couple we were never anything but doomed, but if you’re asking me if I loved you? Then yes. I did.” She pauses. “I still do.” 

The wave of emotion that hits him then is overwhelming. As much as he’s spent the last several weeks marveling at how Rachel was such a better match for him than Quinn, this kind of directness is exactly what he needs in a friend right now. 

There’s only one thing he can’t figure out. “You were so angry at me after Sectionals though. What changed?”

“Jesse St. James showed up.” She looks at the floor in disgust. “Some things you just can’t prepare for, you know?” 

“I don’t know what that means.”

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Point is I miscalculated. I figured it would be better for all of us to just move on, but you and Berry never got your act together, and then he showed up and now everything is somehow more messed up then it was before.” 

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Finn mutters. “I really thought Rachel liked me, and I thought Kurt... well, I don’t what I thought, but now it seems like they’re both out of reach, and now the only people I’m talking to are you and Puck. It’s like we’ve gone back to square one, and I don’t know why.” 

“I mean, Kurt can’t be that hard to get through to. Just text him.” 

Finn blushes. “I, uh, I can’t. He won’t give me his number.”

Quinn’s face hardens. “I’m sorry, did I hallucinate the part where you cold-called him to ask for advice right before you got me kicked out of my house?” 

Finn winces. “I know I’ve said it before and it’s never gonna be enough, but I really am sorry about that.”

Quinn shakes her head. “No need. It just spared me a couple weeks of convincing myself my parents actually loved me. And I was lying to you the entire time, so. Call it water under a very depressing bridge.” 

Finn blows out a breath. “Wow, we really are messed up.”

“Answer the question, dude.” 

Finn chokes down a laugh; she’s picking up Puck’s mannerisms and it’s honestly kind of cute. 

“Yeah, well, that was actually Rachel’s phone. Kurt just picked up instead and I was so desperate I didn’t question it.” He sees the question in her face. “She was in the shower.” 

“Oh god, I’m gonna throw up.” Quinn rolls her eyes. “We really are gonna have to keep an eye on those two to make sure they don’t elope to New York before they even graduate.” 

Finn smiles grimly. “Yeah, except I think her little video stunt got to Kurt even worse than it got to me. We’re fracturing in basically every way possible at this point.” 

“So talk to them,” Quinn says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I mean, if I can work things out with you and Noah, this should be a walk in the park.”

Finn only wishes that were the case. “The thing with Kurt...I don’t think that’s gonna be up to me. And with Rachel, I just have no idea where to start.” 

“Do you want her to be your girlfriend?” 

Okay, maybe this is a little too much directness, and there’s something in Quinn’s tone that suggests more than just curiosity. Still, it’s a fair question. 

“I mean, I think so? I know she regrets blowing up at me earlier, and I guess I have been jealous of Jesse, but I just don't know how to communicate that it’s because I want to be with her, not just because I want to sing with her.” It’s the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but Quinn has always been impossible to lie to.

“My advice?” Quinn gets to her feet and casually grabs one of the band kids’ electric guitars off its stand. “First of all, you have to sing it. It’s the only method of communication that gets through to her.” 

“Wait, you play guitar?” Since when does she play guitar? 

“And second,” she continues, ignoring him in favor of plugging it into the amp and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Don’t be subtle.” 

“Ok seriously, what are you doing, that doesn’t belong to you.” 

Quinn shrugs. “What the band geeks don’t know can’t hurt them. And this is for a good cause.” She strums a few chords and adjusts the tuning. “We’re getting ready for Schuester’s assignment. We have to, you know, express ourselves.”

He doesn’t miss the smirk or the implication, but he also doesn’t really care to relive Madonna Week, so he just crosses his arms and tries to look indifferent. “So what song should I do?” 

Quinn gives him a look. “Dude, you know what song.”

“No I don’t.” She holds his gaze, not buying it for a second, and finally he gives in.

“Ok, fine.” He moves to the drums, because if this is going to happen it’s going to happen right. 

He looks at Quinn, returns her smile, and says “Hit it.” 

His smile freezes when he hears the opening riffs, carrying a good deal of Puck’s skill and all of Quinn’s uncanny ability to learn on the fly. Of course. Where else would she have learned? 

But the last thing he needs is to think about Puck right now. This is about making things clear for Rachel. He closes his eyes and lets all his frustrations pour into the first verse. 

_“Jesse is a friend.  
Yeah I know, he’s been a good friend of mine  
But lately something’s changed that ain’t hard to define  
“Jesse’s got himself a girl and I want to make her mine.” _

When he brings in the pre-chorus with a kick of the drums, his expectations are thrown again when Quinn joins in with a seriously kickass harmony. 

_“And she’s watching him with those eyes  
And she’s loving him with that body I just know it  
And he’s holding her in his arms, late late at night.” _

She nods to him and steps back, letting him take the chorus solo. 

_“You know I wish that I had Jesse’s girl!”_

Or maybe not, because to Finn’s ears her response on the guitar sounds more convincing than he could ever be.

_"I wish that I had Jesse’s girl!”_

Her hair is dangling in her face as she concentrates on the fingerings, and it’s the most focused she’s ever looked, until she throws her head back and joins him for the final line. 

_“Where can I find a woman like that?”_

He isn’t sure what to make of her enthusiasm, except that it’s infectious and this is probably the most fun he’s ever had playing with anyone. But then she’s harmonizing again on the bridge, looking him right in the eye with that sad smile of hers, and he thinks he begins to understand. 

_“And I’m looking in the mirror all the time  
Wondering what she don’t see in me  
I’ve been funny, I’ve been cool with the lines,  
Ain’t that the way love’s supposed to be.” _

They let their instruments do the talking for a few measures, the energy building with each exchange, and then Quinn winks at Finn and shouts _“TELL ME!”_

_“Where can I find a woman like that?”_

As she launches into an honest-to-god virtuoso guitar solo, Finn realizes that they might be looking for the same thing. 

***

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Rachel barely registers when Quinn slides into the seat next to her. Her jaw is still on the floor, because she just saw Quinn Fabray pick up an electric guitar and _absolutely shred,_ and how is she supposed to be ok after that? 

And yes, she thinks Finn might have just asked her out through song - he really has come so far - but somehow that doesn’t seem like a pressing issue right now. 

“Rachel?” Quinn leans forward. “Blink twice if you can hear me.” 

She finally gets enough control of her facial features to scowl. “That was so… you can’t just… ” 

But not enough to speak, apparently. 

“That was highly inappropriate, I’m surprised at both of you,” Rachel finally manages to get out. 

“Of course it was.” Quinn is actually smiling now, and Rachel can feel her body temperature ramping up to dangerous levels. “I’m thinking of putting it on a playlist, right next to _Gives You Hell_ by All-American Rejects. Face it Rachel, this choir room has fewer emotional boundaries than a literal confessional.” 

Rachel doesn’t really have a comeback for that, so she settles for picking at a stray thread of her skirt. 

“Since when do you even know guitar anyway?” She knows she should be seeking an explanation for the highly insulting lyrical implications of their performance, but if she’s honest this is the only question she’s had since the song began. 

Quinn shrugs. “There’s nothing to do at Puck’s, but he’s got a million of those things lying around and one day he offered to teach me.” She throws Rachel a wink - it’s the first time that’s happened in ages, and Rachel can’t help the smile that blossoms across her face. “And you already know I’m a fast learner.”

Long hours in the choir room. Starry nights watching a sport they both used to hate. Yeah, she knows. 

Rachel breathes out a sigh of relief to distract herself from her own memories. “Well, at least Puck’s doing something decent.” She risks a glance at Quinn. “But if he ever treats you badly…”

Quinn shakes her head vigorously. “You still don’t get it. Puck at his absolute worst isn’t any worse of a person than I am.” 

Rachel frowns. “Quinn, you were drunk, he took advantage of you, you need to stop beating yourself up- “

“And you need to stop assuming you know who’s worthy of redemption.” Quinn’s eyes are angry again, and Rachel is messing everything up _again_ , but she can’t stop thinking about how beautiful those eyes are anyway. 

“We were both drunk.” Rachel freezes; she never knew that. Quinn sees her reaction and her tone softens. 

“Hell, judging by our hangovers the next day he was probably a little worse off than I was, and I know for a fact that he was even less into me than I was into him. But we both wanted to escape, so we basically used each other to self-harm.”

She shrugs so cavalierly that Rachel suddenly wants nothing more than to violently confront whoever has made Quinn this disinterested in her own well-being. “It was probably the wost sex anyone has ever had, but that’s all it was.” 

Rachel’s eyes sting, but she tries to hold herself together; Quinn has no reason to comfort her but she kind of suspects she would anyway. “Is that really supposed to make me feel better?” 

“Of course not, but since when are you still this concerned about me?” 

Rachel knows she shouldn’t go where she’s about to go, but she can’t help it. She’s too curious. 

“I could say the same thing about you. Why do you keep coming back? You’ve had every opportunity to walk away and move on from this… whatever this stupid thing between us has always been. Isn’t that what you want?” 

Quinn sighs. “I used to want a lot of things. For years all I wanted was to see that insufferable arrogance of yours get taken down a notch. Or several.” 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” Rachel mutters, but she’s still smiling. Neither of them were wrong, really. 

“And then, yeah, we ended up on the same side of things for the first time right as my life came apart, and I wanted you as far away from me as possible for both our sakes.” 

She pauses, considering her next words, but Rachel really wishes she would consider less because her heart is in her throat right now and she really doesn’t like it. 

“But one thing that throwing your life away does is make you realize how important it is to find the right people, and recognize them when you do.” Quinn looks Rachel in the eye. “And how important it is to recognize the _wrong_ people.” 

“I thought you said Puck- ”

“I’m not talking about Puck. I’m talking about people like my father, or Coach Sylvester. People who only want you for what you can do for them, and then throw you away like a piece of trash when you’re no longer useful.” 

Rachel picks up the implication, but she doesn’t want to entertain the thought or the knot that’s suddenly formed in her stomach, so she pivots to the song’s accusation. 

“You do know I’m not actually dating Jesse, right?”

Quinn laughs. “Rachel, I don’t really care how you label your relationships, but I know how much of yourself you put into people you care about. You never even made it official with Finn and you’re absolutely disgusting together, and you’re somehow even worse with Hummel. Hell, Artie takes you on one work date and you haven’t stopped looking at her like you’ve joined Britt’s Cult of the Moon Goddess since. “ 

Rachel feels the blush go all the way up her neck at record speed. “That’s not… I’m not… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Uh, huh.” Quinn’s expression tells her she’s not getting off the hook for this anytime soon. “Look, I’m not saying this to make fun of you. The fact that you care so much about so many people is one of the reasons why I was actually kind of starting to like you before everything blew up in our faces.” 

Rachel grins. “One of the reasons?”

Quinn swats her gently on the arm. “Alright, no need to flatter yourself.” Instead of pulling her hand away, she moves it to rest gently on her wrist. “But seriously, that kind of trust can be used against you. And Jesse has every reason to do just that.” 

She knows he does. She’s not completely stupid, and the fact that he’s still in contact with the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, well, she would have to be stupid to miss that red flag. Still. 

“I’m not completely suckered in. I mean, he’s been my biggest rival for as long as I’ve been aware that he’s existed, I hate how he talks to the rest of the team. He’s smug, arrogant, and- “

“Insufferably pretty?” Quinn adds, her expression curiously blank. 

“Yes, exactly!” Rachel can’t believe someone else finally understands. “Just because someone’s good-looking doesn’t mean they aren’t good-looking in a way that’s highly annoying.” 

Quinn smiles faintly. “Yeah, that too-perfect mop of blond hair would get me pretty riled up too.” 

Rachel frowns. “You’re making fun of me again.” 

“I’m not, I swear!” Quinn bits her lip. “I’m glad you recognize his... imperfections, I just don’t get why you’re trying so hard to look past them. Not that I didn’t appreciate the sheer artistry of _Run Joey Run_ \- the angel wings were an especially nice touch - but I think its complete failure to accomplish what you wanted it to is sending you a pretty clear message.” 

For some reason, Rachel feels compelled to make Quinn spell out what she already knows. 

“And that is?”

Quinn slowly rises from her chair, Rachel instinctively standing up with her to support her, and she finds herself staring into those eyes again, their hands still linked. 

“That you have to choose.” 

They’ve been this close before, what with all the times they’ve gotten right in each other’s faces in their arguments and performances (and sometimes it was hard to tell one from the other), but this feels different. It feels safer, but also a thousand times more dangerous, and Rachel feels more than a little lightheaded. She was sure there was something she needed to say, but she can’t seem to place it. 

“I- ”

“Rachel. Can I talk to you?”

The familiar shock of cold travels down her spine and she leaps backward so fast she trips over a chair, with only Quinn’s lightning fast grip saving her from a faceplant into the ground. 

“Actually, we’re busy. Come back never.” Quinn’s voice has all the venom of the old days, and if this is what it feels like to have it on your side Rachel can’t believe she wasted so many years fighting this girl. 

Jesse’s eyes narrow as he leans against the door frame. “You’ve got some nerve, Church Girl.” 

“Yeah? Why are you all the way over there, scared to get within ten feet of a rosary?” 

He still doesn’t move, but turns back to Rachel. “For real, it’s important.” 

Rachel squeezes Quinn’s hand. “It’s okay. I’ve got this.” 

Quinn looks at her in surprise, and as their eyes meet, Rachel tries to silently tell her that she’s going to be just fine. 

Finally, Quinn believes her. “Okay.” 

She slings her bag over her shoulder and makes her way out the door, bumping into Jesse and giving him a truly terrifying evil eye for good measure. 

When she’s gone, suddenly all of the confidence Rachel had moments ago evaporates as Jesse slinks into the room, rubbing his neck and looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

“What did Fabray want with you?” His tone is light, but somehow she can sense the threat that she never did before. She straightens up and tries her best to look unafraid. 

“Just what’s best for me.”

Jesse smiles, but the danger doesn’t leave his eyes. “Just like we all do.”

“Actually, Jesse, I’m glad you’re here. We need to have a serious conversation about- “

“I can take you to your mother.” 

And just like that, her world tips sideways once again. 

***

There are twenty-seven missed texts from Rachel, the oldest of which is from three days ago, and even though he knows it’s going to be an apology Kurt can’t bring himself to open them. As he makes his way through the empty auditorium for the first time since he stormed out on Rachel and Finn weeks ago, he finds it hard to believe that he ever thought he could find people he could count on, and even harder to believe he ever thought he could count on himself. 

His performance of John Mellencamp’s _Pink Houses_ \- aided by Puck, over the exasperated objection of _“Guys, I said solos, did none of you listen to me?_ ” from Mr. Schue - was a disaster. Puck warned him it would be, and he knew his father’s particular brand of masculinity is about the most difficult target he could have aimed for, but he couldn’t help it. 

Trusting Rachel to stick by him only to be tossed aside the moment a straighter, more attractive, and inferiorly dressed version of himself came along had been painful enough. But opening up to Finn after everything, only to be immediately replaced in his father’s eyes out of some freak contrivance of fate that led to their parents falling for each other, that was too much to bear. 

He gets to the stage and casually rips off the plaid jacket that had made Rachel compliment him for the first time in weeks, which was the opposite of what he was trying to accomplish. He runs his hands through the sequins he had kept on underneath as a security blanket. 

Mr. Schue wanted a song that represents who they are? He could show him exactly what that means. 

_"All that work and what did it get me?”_

His arms are still sore from the weight lifting, and his legs are burning from two-hour double practices of two different sports. 

_“Why did I do it?”_

The peals of laughter reverberating around the room. The disdainful smirk from Jesse. Going home to his father, hearing about his boys’ day out with Finn.

_“Scrapbooks filled with me in the background.”_

The picture of Jesse on Rachel’s wall, the wall that he was stupid enough to believe he might be a part of one day.

_“Give ‘em love and what does it get yo?.  
What does it get you?  
One quick look as each of ‘em leaves you.” _

His face up on screen, melting into Jesse, melting into Finn. His replacements, twice over. 

_“All your life and what does it get you  
Thanks a lot and out with the garbage  
They take bows and you’re battin’ zero.” _

Just a countertenor. Too weak. Too gay. Not good enough, get in the back. 

A thrown note when he could have proved them all wrong. 

_“I had a dream  
I dreamed it for you dad.” _

He was the better singer, that day, going away. 

_“It wasn’t for me dad.”_

He’s always been the better singer. 

_“And if it wasn’t for me,  
Then where would you be,  
MS. RACHEL BERRY!” _

He knows he’s distressingly in character, but he can’t help it. He’s never going to be able to sing this in a real production of his favorite childhood musical, so lets go of all of his caution, all his compromises, all of the stupid ways he’s ever deferred to what other people think of him. 

There’s no one watching now anyway. 

_“Well, someone tell me when is it my turn  
Don’t I get a dream for myself?  
Starting now it’s gonna be MY turn  
Gangway world, GET OFF of my runway” _

He can see the echoes of where Rachel and Finn once stood next to him, and takes a grim satisfaction that they’re nowhere to be found. 

_“Starting now I  
Bat a thousand  
This time boys I’m taking the bows and… “ _

He doesn’t need them anyway. 

_“EVERYTHING’S COMING UP KURT  
EVERYTHING’S COMING UP HUMMEL  
‘EVERYTHING’S COMING UP KURT,   
THIS TIME FOR ME!” _

The unhinged cackle that escapes his lips is so loud it almost jars him out of the moment, but he’s never left a song unfinished. So instead, he races across the stage with more speed than he ever knew he had, trying desperately to exorcise a different ghost with each scream of _“FOR ME!”_

Rachel. 

_“FOR ME!”_

Finn. 

_“FOR ME!”_

Jesse. 

_“FOR ME!”_

Every slushie, hip check, and insult he’s ever taken, all condensed into one primal, perfectly pitched scream. 

_“For…  
MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, AHHHHHHHHHHHH!” _

When the sound finally dies into the empty air, it takes all his anger with it, and he finds himself crumpled on the ground, retreating back into himself, thanking a God he doesn’t believe in that nobody was here to see that. 

When he hears the applause, he snaps his head up. 

_No. It can’t be him. Not again._

“That was one hell of a song.” 

His fear dissipates upon hearing his father’s voice, only to be replaced by an overwhelming urge to cry. 

“That was _Rose’s Turn.”_

He tries to keep his voice steady, but he knows this is one fight he’s not going to win. 

“Well, whatever it was, it was incredible. I’ve never heard you sing like that before.”

“Why are you here, Dad?’ It’s the most he can get out. 

“Rachel texted Finn, Finn texted me. Those two are really worried about you; I think you’ve found a couple of real gems. The kind of friends that will stick around, if you let them.” 

His heart breaks all over again, because somehow his dad always finds a way to reveal the truth. 

“I know,” he breathes out. 

He climbs the ramp to join him, sitting down on the edge of the stage. 

“And I know from what you’ve told me that this Rachel girl can get kind of intense, so I’ll let you decide how to handle that.” He pauses. “Though if she’s trying to apologize for something I would suggest you at least hear her out. I’m just saying,” he adds when Kurt starts to object, “someone has been blowing up your phone this week and I have a hunch that she fits the type.” 

Kurt takes a deep breath, cursing his dad’s terrifying perceptiveness and preparing himself for what he knows is coming. 

“But something tells me your problem with Finn is mostly a problem with me, and I want you to know that I’m gonna do everything in my power to fix it.”

That’s when he gives out, and when the tears start rolling down his face his dad immediately wraps him a hug. 

“It’s not a problem with you, Dad. It’s a problem with me. I know I haven’t been fair to Finn, or you, or Carole, and I- ”

“Hey, hey, enough of that. I’m the parent, remember? It’s my job to make sure I don’t hurt you and I haven’t done that well enough.” 

Kurt curls his fingers into the back of his dad’s jacket. “I just, it took me so long to let myself get close to Finn. And right when we were figuring it out, then all of a sudden out of nowhere, we were supposed to treat each other like brothers or something, and he’s the perfect image of the son I could never be, and with everything else going on… I just couldn’t stand it.” 

His dad gives him a firm squeeze, then pulls back just enough to look Kurt in the eye. “Listen to me. You will always be my first son, no matter what happens.” Kurt tries to look down, but his dad holds his chin up. “I mean it, alright? Whether you’re on the football team or the Cheerios, whether you’re singing Mellencamp or Sondheim. And I don’t think for one second it’s a coincidence that you keep finding ways to do both.” 

Kurt winces, but he’s already feeling a thousand pounds lighter. “You knew about the Mellencamp?” 

“Heard you rehearsing when I came home early the other day. And don’t worry if it didn’t land, you know I love my Mellencamp, but not even Finn could make _Pink Houses_ sound like a good song in 2009.” 

Kurt laughs, pulling away slightly to wipe away his tears. “I guess I’ll stick to The Beatles for my classic rock.” 

His dad slaps him on the back. “I don’t know, I think you could kill that Journey medley if Schuester came to his senses and gave you a lead. Maybe I should give him a visit myself.”

“Oh god, no, that won’t be necessary. But, um. Thanks dad. For everything.” 

“No need to thank me. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” 

“No more throwing competitions for my sake.” 

Kurt’s breath catches. “How did you- ” 

“I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid. I saw you guys at Sectionals and _Defying Gravity_ was nowhere to be found on that setlist, and something tells me Rachel Berry wouldn’t have let that happen if she had actually beaten you.” If he already has this much of a read on her, Kurt dreads the day that Rachel actually meets Burt Hummel. 

“But the way you sang just now? That’s gonna take you places, and I would never forgive myself if I was the reason you held yourself back from your full potential.” 

Kurt doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just nods, knowing that his dad can see everything he wants to say in his face. 

And as they walk to the car, it gets just a little bit better. 

“So, hey, Finn’s Bengals are playing my Browns this Sunday. What do you say we head into the city and have a day, football players only?” 

Kurt grins. “I think you mean our Browns, Dad.” 

***

“That was really cool what you did for Kurt.”

Puck sighs. “Finn, if everything about us is gonna revolve around Kurt you should probably be beating me up again, because I just took years off that kid’s life by agreeing to help him sing Mellencamp.” 

Finn shakes his head, pausing to pull his practice jersey over his shoulder pads. “I mean yeah, it was embarrassing, but we’ve all made ourselves look like idiots this week. It was kind of the theme, or whatever.” 

Puck snaps his helmet on. “Yeah, tell me about it. I knew Quinn was having me teach her Rick Springfield for a reason, but I never expected that. That was the first time you two have had chemistry pretty much ever, and all it took was crushing on the same girl.” 

Finn doesn’t respond, because he knows it’s true, but he doesn’t know yet what it means for it to be true. 

“So, uh, Finn- ”

“Alright, enough with the first names.” He bends down to pick up a football. “I get it, I overreacted.” 

“Okay, uh, dude.” They both cringe. It’s going to be a long road back. But if there’s one thing that the strangest jam session of his life has taught him, it’s that he can’t give up on any of the people he loves. 

Apparently, hanging out with Kurt has given Puck similar ideas. 

“Look, practice is about to start, and this field has been kind of a bad place for us for awhile, so how about we take this to neutral territory tomorrow. Like, The Lima Bean, or something.” 

The joking words _“What, are you asking me out?_ ” are on the tip of his tongue, but the vulnerability in Puck’s eyes gives him pause. Maybe this is too much too soon. He looks at the football in his hand and gets an idea.

“That depends.” 

Puck frowns. “On what?” 

“On whether or not you catch this.” And without further preamble, Finn takes a five-step drop, cocks back his arm and launches a perfect spiral as hard as he can downfield. 

He fully intended it to be an uncatchable pass, but Puck took off before he even started moving, and Finn’s muscle memory proves stronger than his willpower. 

And so the ball hangs against the evening sky with more air under it than Finn has ever managed, and Puck is running faster than he’s ever seen him run, which shouldn't even be possible. 

Sixty yards later, the arc of the ball and the streak of red collide. Puck lays out, hits the turf, and bounces up immediately with the ball raised triumphantly over his head. 

Even from where he’s standing, Finn can hear what Puck shouts from the opposite 30-yard line: _“You’re not getting rid of me that easily!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Kurt wasn't originally in Run Joey Run, it was actually Puck in canon.
> 
> Mercedes and Puck have no interest in each other. We thought that was incredibly contrived in canon. Besides, we have a feeling neither of them would be particularly up for dating the other.


	19. Dream On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Finn and Puck are back on speaking terms, kind of. Rachel got Laryngitis but it wasn’t the only reason she got all choked up. All of her friendships are being tested by Jesse, who also promised to bring Rachel to her biological mother. Kurt and Puck had a heart-to-heart. Which was a little weird because Finn and Quinn had a heart-to-heart too. It looks like things are finally coming together for everyone. Except for Rachel.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We kept Neil Patrick Harris but we promise he won’t be a nuance. Bryan Ryan might have been annoying but damn. Neil Patrick Harris has quite a vocal range. 
> 
> Chapter written by - Oliver / upsettos

Rachel still can’t believe she’s doing this. Jesse has to be lying to her. Right? But then again, if she really believes that, why is she sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV on her way to Carmel High right now when she should be at rehearsal?

Her phone buzzes again, probably Kurt wondering where she is, but she doesn’t have the energy to pull it out and check. Her mind is still reeling with possibilities. She had always thought her mom must be a Broadway star. Where else could all of her talent have come from? But, Jesse said he knew her mom. He knew her. It couldn’t possibly be true. Why would he lie? Why would her mother have come back to Lima after all these years just to send her high school ex-nemesis to play messenger?

“Why, exactly, is my mom at Carmel High, again?”

Jesse looks over at her in a way that makes her clench her fists into her seat belt. “Please keep your eyes on the road while you answer me,” she half squeals. After fifteen years of nothing, her nerves are fried at the prospect of so many answers all at once. She’d never actually thought she’d ever meet her mom before Jesse brought it up.

“I know you have a lot of questions, but I really can’t answer them for you. You just have to trust me,” he says, keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on the road.

“I _have_ been trusting you. I trusted you when you said you wanted to join the New Directions. I trusted you when you made me choose between winning at Regionals and keeping my friends. I trusted you when you said that I would have to wait until rehearsal today before you would give me any answers about my mom. I’m sick of trusting you when you still haven’t actually made good on any of your promises.”

“I know there’s a lot going on, and I get that you’re frustrated, but I need you to just bear with me for another half an hour and everything will make sense. There’s a lot you don’t know, and it really isn’t my place to tell.”

Rachel huffs and crosses her arms, turning away to stare out the window and willing her knee to stop its anxious bouncing. This is going to be the longest two hours of her life. “If you’re going to be all cryptic, can we at least put on some music?”

Jesse reaches out to turn on the radio, and the opening notes of _Daydream Believer_ filter through the surround sound of the car. _Damn, these cars are nice,_ Rachel finds herself thinking. “Oh, I love this song,” Jesse starts before joining in on the second chorus.

“When I said I wanted to listen to music, I didn’t mean I wanted an impromptu sing-along. I know that’s incredibly out of character for me, but I’m not exactly in the right frame of mind right now, and I’d really just like to gather my thoughts in peace,” Rachel snaps, a bit harsher than she meant to, but it gets the point across, and Jesse doesn’t try to talk to her again for the rest of the ride.

***

Puck is halfway to falling asleep, and he hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to whatever Schuester’s been saying, but suddenly this new guy is in the choir room and he’s never seen Schue looking more peeved, not even when he turned in that Spanish test that just had a bunch of penises wearing sombreros in all of the answer spaces.

“Alright everyone,” says the new guy, looking around, trying to make eye contact with everyone in the room. It’s a little creepy since the guy’s gotta be old enough to be the husband of one of the MILFs Puck messes around with on the weekends. And after school. And just generally whenever he wants in the summer.

“I want you all to take out a piece of paper and write down your deepest most personal dream for the future. Write down something that means so much to you that the thought of life without it is unbearable.” After snagging a scrap of paper from Quinn - because who honestly just keeps scrap paper lying around? - Puck actually has to pause to think about it. His first thought is, of course, to have a threesome, because duh. But, more than a second’s worth of thought has him realizing that that’s not the most important thing in his life anymore. He steals a quick glance back over at Quinn. She’s got her notebook cradled in her arm while she writes, so Puck has a clear view of the word, ‘Yale.’

Puck knows, looking at her, that the only thing he really wants, is for her to be happy. Or, at the very least, happier than his mom was when she got knocked up in her teens and then immediately got dumped on her ass by his deadbeat dad with no family and no money and a newborn baby. He knows everyone expects him to be the same. People have come up to him in the streets to tell him how ashamed of himself he should be for ruining an innocent girl’s life like that. Some of them leave it at that. Most of them have more to say about the color of his skin. It’s not like he didn’t know this would happen, he just didn’t really expect people to be so blatant with their racism. Sometimes he wants to scream; his dad was white and it’s not like he did any better.

He looks back at his sheet, and scribbles the words ‘good dad’ on his before folding it over so that no one else can see.

Brittany raises the hand that’s not trapped between her and Santana, suspiciously out of view of the rest of the room and asks, “Mr. Ryan, when you say future does it have to be within the 21st century? Like can my dream be for what I want them to do with my robot body once they dig up my remains and resuscitate them on the fifth anniversary of the reformation of Pangea?”

Mr. Ryan just stares at her for a second before telling her that, yes, it does have to be something that will happen before her physical death. He then crosses the room to where Artie, Mercedes, and Kurt have set up camp and rips Artie’s paper out of her hands before she even has a chance to react. “That dream is never going to happen,” he almost growls, crushing the ball into his hands as tight as he can make it, “so do yourselves a favor and just throw them all out now.” With that, he chucks whatever it was Artie had decided to write in the direction of the nearest trash can.

When no one moves, he starts waving his hands, trying to move them to action. “I’m serious, guys. Your dreams are so statistically improbable, it’s almost funny. How many of you honestly believe you’re ever going to make anything of yourselves? What makes you so much better than your parents and all of your friends’ parents and all of your teachers and every other miserable pathetic adult in this town? How many people can you name who actually made it out of Lima?” He pauses, but no one seems to have a good answer. “Find some new dreams: a spouse and kids you don’t hate, a house that without leaks in the roof, an entry-level job with healthcare benefits. I don’t really care, just keep it realistic.”

“I really don’t think you’re supposed to talk to us like that,” ventures Mercedes. “Like, aren’t there rules for guest speakers? This isn’t actually constructive in any way.”

“It’s not like I want to be the one to crush your souls. I just think you’ll be better off if I tell you this now, before it’s too late and you’ve already blown hundreds of thousands of dollars on a theatre major in New York that’s effectively worthless, and now you have to couch surf in between gigs as a children’s party entertainer.” His voice cracks a little bit in a way that tells Puck he’s definitely moved on from speaking in hypotheticals. He almost feels sorry for this dude.

“Okay, Bryan, I think they understand,” says Mr. Schue with a sympathetic hand to his shoulder. Bryan. Is this guy’s name really Bryan Ryan? Puck really does feel sorry for him. He never did stand a chance, did he?

Bryan Ryan clearly isn’t too happy with Schue’s pity, because he wrenches his shoulder back with a glare before almost hissing, “I just figured you should all grow up and get a grip considering I will be cutting the music program at McKinley, effective as soon as I can get to a phone.”

“You can’t do that, sir. We’re about to go to Regionals.” insists Kurt. He sounds a little like Berry. Speaking of, where is she? Puck looks around but she’s nowhere to be seen. Interesting. She’s not going to like this. Puck wonders idly what she’ll do when she finds out. A full blown Rachel Berry meltdown certainly would make things a little bit more interesting around here. He turns to Quinn to make a snide comment, but she’s got this dead look in her eyes, lost in her thoughts.

He leans over and grabs her hand which makes her startle and turn to him, and just like that, she’s back with a pleasant smile on her face and the usual glimmer in her eyes. She nods when he asks if she’s okay, but there’s something off. She seems tense, maybe even a little pale. “There’s nothing wrong with the baby, is there?” he asks, blanching a little bit himself.

“No, no, I just, he’s right you know,” she whispers back. “None of us are ever actually going to make it out of here. Least of all the teenage cautionary tale.”

“Hey.” He squeezes her hand in both of his and stares at her straight on, “If anyone in this room is going to get out of Lima and do something with their lives it's going to be the valedictorian who’s going to graduate with two national championships under her belt and the most inspiring admissions essay any of the stuck up Ivy League snobs are ever going to read.”

“One national championship. McKinley High’s not going to make it to show choir nationals. We had a good run, though. This has been fun.” Puck looks over at where Schue and Ryan have taken up a very intense whispered argument in the corner. If that’s all he needs to get through to get Quinn her two national championships, he can do that.

***

Artie wasn’t particularly impressed with whatever meltdown catharsis Mr. Ryan was going through at rehearsal today. Obviously, getting out of Lima is statistically improbable. Artie doubts anyone but Rachel has forgotten that. Nothing like being in a wheelchair to put a damper on the whole show business dreams. But that doesn’t mean she won’t fight tooth and nail to get as far as she possibly can. There’s a reason they’re called glass ceilings and that glass is just asking to be shattered.

Still, she will admit that having her dream ripped from her hands in such a literal way was still kind of shitty. She supposes that’s why she’s in the library, spitefully checking out as many books on film history as their crappy little budget has been able to supply.

“My Lady,” says a voice that could only be one person, “may I help you with that?”

Artie spins around to see Brittany pointing to one of the books on display on top of the bookshelf that Artie hadn’t even noticed. “Yeah, thanks. How’d you know what I was looking for?”

“I know you’re into directing. Rachel’s angel video turned out really pretty, so when I saw you go into the 700s I figured you must be doing research.”

That has Artie doing a double-take. “You have the Dewey Decimal System memorized?”

Brittany raises both of her eyebrows in a look Artie can’t even begin to decipher and huffs, “Yeah, doesn’t everybody?”

That’s… not really something Artie knows how to respond to, so she opts instead to going back to perusing the section, still turned slightly toward Brittany.

“Is directing what you wrote as your dream?” Brittany blurts out, her hands twisting around the hem of her skirt.

Artie doesn’t exactly want to lie to Brittany, and directing is something she’s passionate about and good at and might even have a shot of getting somewhere with, so she nods her head noncommittally without really taking her attention away from the shelf in front of her.

“Is it really, or are you just saying that? Because Santana and I were sitting right behind you, and Santana says she saw you write something about dancing and I’m good at dancing, so I just wanted to offer to help you, if Santana was telling the truth.”

Artie has half a mind to just tell Brittany that Santana was lying; it’s not like she owes Santana any favors. But, that’s really not fair to Brittany, who clearly still trusts Santana for whatever reason, and who doesn’t deserve to have her emotions played with any more than Artie already has. “If I’m being completely honest, there’s a part of me that always wanted to be a dancer. But that’s unrealistic even by the standards of a bunch of fine arts-minded kids from rural Ohio, so I found something else I like. It’s not a big deal.”

Brittany tilts her head to the side and hums for a moment before pointing her finger in the air like she just got an idea. “What if you teach me how to direct, and I can shoot a music video of you dancing? We can work together to come with some cool choreography. Will you come over to my house later this week so we can work on it? Please?”

She pouts her lower lip, and she sounds so genuinely excited at the prospect that Artie can’t help but shrug. “Sure,” she says, “why not?”

***

Rachel still hasn’t decided whether this is all an elaborate prank, or if she’s just being lured into a trap of some kind. Whatever is happening, she has definitely made up her mind that Jesse was lying about knowing her mom. Still, she drove two and a half hours here; she may as well stick around and find out what she can.

She follows Jesse silently around the back of the building to a side entrance that’s been propped open by a sandbag. This absolutely cannot be legal. Still, Jesse is as much a trespasser as she is, and he also doesn’t have her minority status protecting him, so it’s unlikely that this is a police ambush.

She follows him through the door into a huge auditorium. It’s got to be at least double the size of McKinley’s, and the seats and carpeting both look and smell significantly less like they were installed sometime in the late sixties.

“Okay, Rachel. Before we do anything, for legal purposes, I’m going to need you to say, loudly and clearly, that you made your way to Carmel High on your own, with no knowledge of who it was you were coming to meet.” Jesse holds out a tape recorder for her to speak into, and Rachel, who doesn’t really see how this could realistically be used against her, does as she’s told.

“Are you going to explain to me why you need a tape stating that I’ve been dragged here completely in the dark? Literally,” Rachel adds, waving her arms around the empty auditorium, lit only by the emergency exit signs and the aisle markers.

“Your mom signed a contract. She can’t contact you. But you deserved to know. After everything between us, it was the least I could do to tell you the truth once I found out. She didn’t want to meet you, but I convinced her she had to.” A spotlight shutters on, and she whips around to see Shelby Corcoran standing on the stage. Rachel is speechless. He went behind his coach’s back to do this for her. She knew she was right to trust him, she just never realized how much he actually cared about her. The sound of a piano floats into the audience.

“ _I dreamed a dream in times gone by,_ ” she starts, and Rachel can’t say she’s surprised that her reunion with her mother would involve one of the greatest Broadway ballads ever written, “ _when hope was high and life worth living._ ” Jesse did this for her. “ _I dreamed that love would never die._ ” Rachel feels like she’s about to fall over. She feels like she’s flying. “ _I dreamed that God would be forgiving._ ” She doesn’t even realize she’s made her way to the stage until she opens her mouth to continue.

_“Then I was young and unafraid  
And dreams were made and used and wasted  
There was no ransom to be paid  
No song unsung, no wine untasted” _

They sing together through the next verse, Shelby taking the melody while Rachel improvises a harmonized round. Even if Shelby isn’t her mother, she’s still the coach of Vocal Adrenaline, and Rachel lives to impress.

_“But the tigers come at night  
With their voices soft as thunder  
As they tear your hope apart  
As they turn your dream to shame” _

They lock eyes, and Rachel sees that Shelby is crying. Rachel also notices, for the first time, that she and Shelby have remarkably similar faces. That falling feeling from earlier comes back full force, and Rachel drops to her knees. Still, the show must go on.

_“And still I dream she'll come to me  
That we will live the years together  
But there are dreams that cannot be  
And there are storms we cannot weather” _

Shelby comes and kneels beside her, not touching, but still there beside her and they sing the last verse together, both full-on crying at this point.

_“I had a dream my life would be  
So different from this hell I'm living  
So different now from what it seemed  
Now life has killed the dream  
I dreamed” _

“It’s you?” Rachel turns to stare at the woman sitting quietly beside her. 

Shelby hiccups and nods. “I know I’ve stayed away all these years, and I know I have no right to try to waltz my way into your life now, but I heard you sing at Sectionals, and your voice was so beautiful, and you reminded me of me, and I just wanted to meet you, just once. I’m sorry.” She lowers her eyes and begins to worry at her cuticles, the same way Rachel sometimes catches herself doing.

“I don’t blame you for staying away. If it’s what my dads thought was best. I just, I wish, I don’t know. It’s strange to think you’ve been just a few hours away all this time.”

“No, I’m sorry I tried to contact you. You were happy, and now,” she sighs and looks back up at Rachel, “now you know, and that’s not fair to you. I don’t know what I expected would happen today. But, it was wrong of me.”

“Well,” Rachel tries. She really has no idea what she’s meant to say here. It’s not often that she finds herself speechless. “Maybe, maybe we could stay in touch. I mean, now that I know you, I think I’d like to see you again. Maybe we could get dinner sometime?”

Shelby smiles, and Rachel’s breath catches at how similar they look. “I could do dinner.”

***

Puck spots a dazed-looking Bryan Ryan coming out of Coach Sylvester’s office with his hair all messed up and his shirt slightly untucked at the front and comes up short. “Dude, did you just score on Coach Sylvester?”

“What? No. She picked me up by my collar and threw me into a filing cabinet. Who are you?”

“Oh,” says Puck, shrugging as casually as he possibly can, “I’m one of the kids you just told should give up on their dreams.”

Bryan takes a step back, looking a little wearily at Puck’s letterman jacket, and he figures school hierarchies can’t have changed much since the seventies. “Look, kid. I really didn’t mean anything personal by it. I just want you all to have a realistic outlook on life, and Glee Club just isn’t going to give that to you.”

Puck figures he can use this guy’s lingering fear of jocks to his advantage and opens his mouth to try one of his tried and true threats when a voice calling out has him turning to see Kurt running towards them, waving a piece of paper in the air. “Mr. Ryan! Mr. Ryan, I have a list of statistics I’ve compiled proving just how beneficial an arts education can be to… ” He trails off when he notices Puck. “What are you doing here?”

“I go here dipwad.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, and Puck has to hand it to this kid how much confidence he seems to have considering Puck probably would have put his head through a locker if he’d done that just a handful of months ago. “I meant what are you doing talking to Mr. Ryan.” He neatly sidesteps Puck to get in the way of the man in question, who had been slowly inching away from the two while they were distracted. “Mr. Ryan, as you can see from my preliminary research, it would be a horrible idea to cut the New Directions’ funding, especially so close to Regionals. However, if you disagree, I’m happy to send a more comprehensive report to the school board. Before you answer, just keep in mind that the sheet in your hand is what I managed in one hour at the school library. Do you really want to see what I’m capable of putting together given the proper time and resources to prepare myself?”

Bryan holds up his hands, immediately on the defensive. “Woah, kid. How about this? You both come with me to one of my show choir conversion meetings, and if you still want to fight me on this, we’ll talk then.”

Kurt pauses, “Your what?”

“Show choir conversion. Think of it like alcoholics anonymous but for reformed and reforming ex-performers. There are some pretty dark sob stories you might want to consider before you decide you really want to fight me on this. The meetings are completely open. Here’s a card,” he offers Kurt. Whatever he sees, it seems to sell him. He shoots a questioning look at Puck who just sighs before shrugging.

“You finally got your license, right? I’ll meet you by your car after I get out of Spanish.” This might just be the sketchiest thing Puck has ever agreed to, and that’s saying a lot.

Spanish is as dull as always, and Puck mostly just uses the time to doodle baby names on his notebook. He knows there’s no point. He knows Quinn is never going to be convinced to keep that kid. But she’s still his kid. His daughter. If he just lets her go, how is he any better than his dad was, abandoning him? The bell mercifully jolts him out of his thoughts and he’s out the doors and headed through the parking lot even faster than usual. He beats Kurt to his truck and leans up against it for a minute before he spots a familiar black and white hat in the crowd. If nothing else, Kurt sure has mastered the art of standing out in a crowd, even if his wardrobe is limited to his cheer uniform and his letterman jacket, if the piano keys adorning his head are anything to go by.

Kurt unlocks the door and Puck swings up into the passenger seat as the engine hums to life. “So, are you going to answer my question from earlier now? What are you doing here?”

“Is it too much to think that maybe I give a shit about this stupid club too?” Kurt just stares at him and, fair enough but still. “I’m doing it for Quinn,” he bites out, keeping his eyes trained on the students still milling around the parking lot.

Kurt stares at him for another agonizing moment before wisely dropping it. He’s obviously still uncomfortable around Puck, but that’s really not his priority right now. One good deed at a time. They pull out of the parking lot, and the ride to the community center is blissfully quiet.

The place looks run down, but not like they’re being lured into some kind of crack den, so Puck figures it’s probably fine. They hop out and follow the signs down a musty hallway and through a set of double doors into a large linoleum tiled room with a set of folding chairs arranged in a circle on one side and what looks like a seniors’ board game night on the other. This should be interesting.

Ryan and a couple of equally sad-looking middle-aged adults have begun filling up the circle of chairs. When Ryan sees them, he waves them over with a smile. “I’m glad you two could make it. There’s been a bit of a scheduling conflict, so we’re sharing the room today, but we’ve been assured that noise levels will be kept at a reasonable level so we can still conduct our meeting. Please take a seat and we can get started. My name is Bryan and I’m a Glee Club survivor.”

To his right, a squirrelly woman with a grandma cardigan pushes up her glasses and says, “Hi, I’m Brenda. And it’s been 42 days since I sang a show tune.”

A chorus of “Hi Brenda,” is chanted by the five others in the circle. Puck shoots a look at Kurt next to him, but he seems just as confused. Brenda somehow didn’t realize that taking your top off at an audition was not standard practice. Puck doesn’t really know what to make of that. He really doesn’t know what to make of the fact that this woman apparently huffs glue. That feels like something someone should maybe help her out with. After her is Russel who dresses like a cartoon oil tycoon and doesn’t even have the excuse of maybe having been young and scared and desperate. The dude just straight up decided to sing to his father in a hospital bed. Who does that?

When it gets around to Kurt, he sighs and says, “Hi, I’m Kurt, and I’m an active member of the McKinley High show choir. It hasn’t been… perfect,” he hesitates, slanting a look at Puck, “but it hasn’t ruined my life so… ”

After the obligatory “Hi Kurt,” it’s Puck’s turn and he still doesn’t really know what to say. “Hi, my name’s Puck. I, uh… I think it’s kind of dumb what you guys are doing here. Like, yeah, show business is horrible, and most people who try don’t actually make it, but I didn’t join the Glee Club because I thought I was going to be some huge star someday. I do it because it’s fun, and I like singing. Isn’t that, like, why normal people join high school clubs anyways?” The seniors behind them have pulled out a radio, and when Puck hears Billy Joel comes on the speakers, he grins.

“Hold on, guys, my be- my friend, Finn loves this song.” He looks to see if Kurt caught his slip, but Kurt’s got a devious smile on his face.

“Oh, I think we all know what this means,” he says. He hisses, “Sing!” at Puck, and screw it, why not?

_“It's nine o'clock on a Saturday  
The regular crowd shuffles in  
There's an old man sitting next to me  
Makin' love to his tonic and gin” _

“That's incredibly disrespectful of you! These people have all just finished confiding in you, and now you’re rubbing our pasts in our faces with your shameless karaoke-”

_“He says, ‘Son, can you play me a memory  
I'm not really sure how it goes  
But it's sad and it's sweet and I knew it complete  
When I wore a younger man's clothes’" _

Kurt cuts him off to sing the second verse, and smiles encouragingly when Puck joins him in humming the la-di-das. “Come on! You know you want to!”

_“Sing us a song, you're the piano man  
Sing us a song tonight  
Well, we're all in the mood for a melody  
And you've got us feeling' alright” _

Ryan looks like he’s about to explode, but his foot has been tapping along to the melody since Puck started singing, so he stands up and keeps going.

_“Now John at the bar is a friend of mine  
He gets me my drinks for free  
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke  
But there's someplace that he'd rather be  
He says, ‘Bill, I believe this is killing me’  
As the smile ran away from his face  
‘Well I'm sure that I could be a movie star  
If I could get out of this place’" _

Kurt has also stood up, and he’s ushering everyone else in the circle to do the same as they sing the next bunch of la-di-das. He actually smiles at Puck who doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kurt so at-ease as he sings,

_“Now Paul is a real estate novelist  
Who never had time for a wife  
And he's talking' with Davy, who's still in the Navy  
And probably will be for life” _

Ryan seems to have finally snapped, because before Puck can start in on the next verse he’s already broken out into a full on microphone pose with a water bottle.

_“And the waitress is practicing politics  
As the businessmen slowly get stoned  
Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness  
But it's better than drinking' alone"_

Kurt elbows him conspiratorially as they watch Ryan belt out the chorus. “Good job. I think we’ve got him. Now.” Oh. Puck didn’t even realize Kurt was scheming. He thought they were just having fun singing a duet together which, yeah. Now that he thinks about it, Kurt has no reason to want to sing a duet with him, or interact with him at all, really.

Puck isn’t really sure why this bothers him. He’s been actively tormenting Kurt since elementary school. He’s the one who made it clear that they would never be friends just because they were in the same extracurriculars. He doesn’t like Kurt. He doesn’t like the stupid way he dresses, and he doesn’t like the stupid way he talks, and he really doesn’t like the way he acts. It’s not the gay thing. Not that Puck’s a fan, but it’s just the way he’s so shameless about it, like he just doesn’t care, no matter how many times Puck throws him in a dumpster. Still, Kurt and Finn are friends now, and Finn wants him to play nice, and he has been. He knows he can’t ever make up for the past decade of their lives, but he still feels wrong.

Kurt calling his name pulls him out of his thoughts, and he realizes he’s been staring. “Were you paying attention to any of the conversation just now?” Puck nods, but Kurt looks unconvinced.”Okay, well, did you need a ride home?” Puck doesn’t actually know where they are so he says yes and follows Kurt back out to his truck. Once they’re both in and Kurt has pulled out onto the road he finally calls Puck out. “Will you please stop looking at me like that. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I promise never to do it again if you stop looking at me like you’re trying to figure out how best to make my murder look like an accident.”

Puck blinks. “That’s not-”

“I got Mr. Ryan to agree to keep the club’s funding. Can we just leave it at that and go back to politely ignoring each other as much as possible? I don’t need you pretending to be nice to me just because Finn asked. I’d rather you just left me alone.”

“I’m not pretending. Is that so hard to believe? I know I’ve been a real ass, but I’m going to be a dad now. I’m trying to be a better person.”

“Puck,” Kurt says, glancing at him with a worried frown on his face, “you know Quinn’s not keeping the baby, right? You’re not actually going to be a dad.”

“I know that!” Puck yells. Kurt flinches, and he makes an honest effort to control his voice as he continues, “I know, I just… even if I don’t get to raise her, she’s still my daughter. I want her to know her dad was a good guy. Or, I at least want her to know I tried. I don’t want to just be another deadbeat like my dad.”

“That’s different. Your mom kept you.”

“It’s not just about that.” Puck takes a deep breath and realizes that without Finn around to talk to, he really has been keeping all of his feelings pent up, and he’s just too tired to stop now that he’s started. “You don’t know what it’s like. I’m a black guy with a single mom, and now I’ve gone and knocked up Quinn Fabray of all people. No one expects me to actually stick it out, and I’m going to prove them wrong.”

“Have you considered that maybe being a good person isn’t something you should do for someone else? If you really want to be a better person, you need to do it for yourself. I know it’s probably not my place to say, and I really can’t understand anything about the situation you’re in, but you’re not going to change some racist asshole’s mind by being a model citizen. You’re the one who has to live with yourself and the decisions you make.”

“I guess I just always thought I’d clean up my act once I settled down when I was like thirty or something. I’ve always wanted kids to tuck in at night and take to sports games and all that stuff that I didn’t have. It’s what I wrote down during the whole dream exercise.”

“You know what I wrote down?” asks Kurt with a self-deprecating smile. “I wrote that I wanted people to stop judging me for my sexuality.”

Puck’s thoughts grind to a halt there and he curses. “What if my daughter’s a lesbian? What if my daughter’s a lesbian and she finds out what a piece of shit I was with you and Berry.” Kurt’s head whips around completely. “I meant, back before I realized she likes Finn. Keep your eyes on the road, man!”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “See, this is what I’m talking about. It shouldn’t have to take you having a gay kid to realize that the way you treat me is shitty.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know that I’m trying. And I’m going to do it because you’re kind of a cool guy, and not because of a kid I’m never actually going to get the chance to raise.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that,” Kurt offers, and his smile looks genuine.

***

Artie drums her hands against her lap as Brittany announces the debut screening of her first-ever music video, and hits play on the DVD player hooked up to the projector in the darkened room. She and Brittany had had a lot of fun toying with the idea of choreographing something to Men Without Hats’ _The Safety Dance_ but ultimately decided to go with a ballad. _Dream A Little Dream Of Me_ by the Mamas and Papas paired with a cool color palette and a slightly starry backdrop really does capture beautifully on film.

_“Stars shining bright above you  
Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"  
Birds singing in the sycamore tree  
Dream a little dream of me  
Say "Night-ie night" and kiss me  
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me  
While I'm alone and blue as can be  
Dream a little dream of me” _

The video starts with Artie alone singing the opening two verses, and then at the start of the musical interlude she twirls around and to the side to pull Brittany into frame. The two balance leaned away from each other, remaining upright by their joined hands before pulling back in and circling each other. Brittany drops into a crouch and pushes Artie away as she rises again. Through a slight of hand that Artie is actually really proud of, her chair turns back towards Brittany seemingly on its own. They take each other’s hands again, and Artie twirls Brittany around until she’s behind her before spinning to grasp her hand again as the two twirl around and around until Brittany lands again in a crouch behind Artie who continues the song as the two dance around each other.

_“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you  
Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you  
But in your dreams whatever they be  
Dream a little dream of me” _

Quinn reaches out and squeezes Artie’s shoulder, singing her praises as the rest of the club join in. Out of the corner of her eye, it looks like Santana leans in to whisper something in Brittany’s ear, or maybe just kiss her cheek, but then Artie is being pulled into a hug with Mercedes and Kurt.

Mr. Schue is clapping and going on about how proud he is of the initiative they each showed, going out of their respective comfort zones to create a music video.

Artie can’t stop grinning as she and Brittany take their bows. She really should let Brit talk her into more stuff in the future. Her ideas may be a little out there, but she really is way more of a genius than most of the school gives her credit for. She’s already started hatching an elaborate plot to make it up to her, but she’s going to need to figure out how to get a hold of eight live deer first.

She goes back to her corner with Kurt and Mercedes as Puck, of all people, raises his hand to make a special announcement. Rachel has been slowly inching her way over, and she leans over to whisper something in Kurt’s ear. He frowns at her, but ultimately leans in and listens to whatever it is she has to say. Artie will have to see if she can get the juicy details later. It’s not every day that Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James decide to ditch rehearsal together.

Puck has picked up a guitar and Artie breaks out into another uncontrollable grin as he strums the opening chords to Aerosmith’s _Dream On._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Rachel and Shelby's big meeting doesn't happen in Dream On in canon. It actually happens in the next chapter, Theatricality.
> 
> We didn't like anything about Artie's 'biggest dream' storyline. Not only was it very bad, it wouldn't have worked with our Artie and her lack of a Tina.


	20. Theatricality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: Rachel met her biological mom, who ended up being the coach of Vocal Adrenaline. The Glee Club almost got shut down by one of Schuester’s old friends but Kurt and Puck managed to talk him out of it. And Brittany directed a music video.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theatricality, aka the Lady Gaga tribute episode, was written by Ryan Murphy. So, technically, this should have been Cecelia's chapter. Except that we didn't want to mess up our order, so Micah got to write this chapter while Cecelia comes back next chapter with Funk.
> 
> Chapter written by - Micah / madeofmemories

GAGA 

Mercedes watches as Mr. Schue writes the word up on the board, a shit-eating grin on his face. Behind her, Mercedes can hear Santana bolt upright and - to her surprise - silence from Kurt. Who would otherwise be ecstatic at the fact that they’re most likely doing a Lady Gaga week.

“Mr. Schue,” Santana says, a hint of panic in her voice, “I just remembered. Ms. Pillsbury needs you. Right now. Coach Sylvester spit on her desk and now she can’t enter her office.”

Mr. Schue’s eyes widen comically and before Santana can get another word in, he drops his marker and sprints out of the room, yelling “Sue!”

As soon as he’s out, Santana pushes herself out of her seat and dashes to the board. She rubs at it with the back of her arm, not stopping until every trace of the word ‘GAGA’ is gone from existence. Santana stands back, inspecting the clean board one more time before turning around and addressing the choir room. “We aren’t doing Gaga.”

“Why not?” Artie says. She looks more than a little frazzled, having finished an AP Chem test the class period prior.

“Why not?” Santana repeats incredulously. “I don’t know about you freaks, but I’d rather not wear a dress made of raw steaks and cotton candy.”

“I think that’d be cute,” Brittany says, playing with her ponytail.

As Santana seemingly malfunctions, Mercedes leans over to ask Kurt, “You doing okay? It’s weird not seeing you go gaga for Gaga.”

Kurt just shrugs, and Mercedes frowns. She looks around but she can’t find what has usually been the source of his discomfort. Rachel and Jesse have slowly been retracting from the club, and the possibility of them losing Rachel has become more and more real. Mercedes hasn’t been able to do anything personally. She and Rachel aren’t close enough for her to have any real impact on her, so she’s been relying on Finn, Kurt, and now Quinn to pull her back. And for a while, it looked like they might have been winning her back.

But this has been the third rehearsal Rachel’s missed this week. With Regionals three weeks away, none of them can afford to miss any of them. Rachel’s excuses, save for her bout of laryngitis that knocked her out for an entire week, have been superficial -

_dads are fighting. want to make sure I don’t end up a statistic xoxo_

_forgot my lucky bracelet at home! tell mr. schue i’m making sure to practice outside of practice._

_might be uncovering something big. i know you’re mad at me kurt but you’ll be the first to know if i find something_

The last one yielded nothing. Although that isn’t entirely Rachel’s fault. Kurt’s been mostly unresponsive, telling Mercedes and Artie that he’ll hear her out when she starts listening to him.

“Didn’t we already do her?” Finn asks from his spot next to Puck. Which is something that puts a smile on Mercedes’ face.

“We did Madonna,” Mercedes corrects.

“Did someone say Madonna?” Rachel, uncharacteristically alone, dashes in. “Please don’t tell me Mr. Schue wants to do another Madonna week. We don’t have time for that!” 

She pauses and takes a look at the seating arrangement, uncertainty on her face as she looks at every empty chair. Eventually she decides on the seat next to Artie, who offers her a fist bump in greeting.

“No, worse,” Santana says. “Gaga.”

“Oh! Well, I’m glad Mr. Schue picked up on my suggestion then,” when Santana looks at her blankly, she explains, “Vocal Adrenaline is doing Gaga for Regionals and I thought doing a Gaga assignment will give us insight as to what we’re going to be up against.”

“I thought they were doing a rap mix?” Artie asks. “Or was Jesse lying about that? Where is he anyway?”

“How would I know? I’m not his keeper,” Rachel answers, indignant. “Okay fine. He wasn’t feeling well so he decided to stay home.”

Mercedes looks down at her phone. Not because she has a message or anything. It’s because she can’t handle doing the whole Rachel-Jesse thing from Rachel’s perspective anymore. Kurt covers her screen with his hand, and nods towards the door when she smacks it off.

“Crisis averted,” Mr. Schue says, looking much more disheveled. “Thanks for letting me know Santana. Now, take a seat and we can discuss this week’s assignment.”

Santana grumbles but doesn’t fight it.

As soon as she sits down, Mr. Schue begins, “This week, we’re going gaga for Gaga.” He gestures grandly at the whiteboard, freezing in place when he realizes that it’s blank. It’s an uncomfortable pause before he finally moves again. “I could have sworn... “

“Nope,” Santana calls out.

“Oh, um. Well,” he says, “Anyways, yes. We’re doing Lady Gaga this week. I loved the music video Brittany and Artie put on last week. I think it really tested our limits as a club. Because of that, I want to try to do another one this week. Specifically, _Bad Romance,_ considering that her music video for it came out very recently.”

“The best Gaga song,” Mercedes says to Artie, who shrugs.

“I’m going to split you up into groups. They may seem unconventional but I want you guys to expand your talents. Brittany, since you’ve already dipped your toes in directing, I want you to do it again. Mercedes and Lauren will also be working with you.”

“Yay,” Brittany says, high-fiving Mercedes.

Mr. Schue continues, “Kurt. Rachel. You two are in charge of costumes. Artie, Finn, and Puck will work on choreography, and Santana and Quinn will work with Jesse as the song’s main vocals. Got it? Alright, places everyone!”

***

Out of all the people in this loser club, Lauren thinks she likes Mercedes and Brittany the best. Which is great for her, considering they’re the ones she got stuck with.

Lauren looks up from her phone as the two of them pull up chairs next to her. They all saw Brittany direct a thing last week, which was admittedly pretty good, but Lauren doesn’t know if Mercedes has any idea what to do behind a camera. Sure, the girl can sing, but Lauren doubts she can do much else. Her dancing is mediocre at best.

“Lauren, did you hear anything I just said?” Mercedes asks.

“Yeah, yeah, something about Gaga or whatever.”

“Oh Mercedes thought you weren’t paying attention,” Brittany says, “Looks like you’re going to have to apologize Mercedes.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry Lauren.”

A phrase she’s used to hearing. Lauren sits back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Apology accepted. So what’s the plan?”

Brittany raises her hand. “I think we should go full avant-garde and film the video in the dark. And then provide all viewers with night vision goggles.”

Lauren nods. She actually likes that idea. If they film it in the dark, no one will have to see the horrendous costumes Berry will make. Or the awful choreo from Team Artie. It’s not like she’s going to be in the video anyway, as a director. Might as well go for the route with the lowest budget.

But because good things in life can’t come to her easily, Mercedes shakes her head. “The night vision goggles won’t work Brittany. I think we should just copy the music video. You know, film it like Gaga did?”

She likes that idea too. The other groups can’t start working without advice from Lauren’s group. Hummel and Berry can just copy the outfits from the video and Team Artie can’t mess up giving them choreo made by professionals. Not that she cares about how well this goes, or anything. Mercedes and Brittany wait for Lauren to give her input, and it takes Lauren only a second to come up with a plan that’ll satisfy everyone’s desires.

“Just tell the other groups to do whatever the hell they want,” she says.

***

Unlike the other groups, Kurt and Rachel got sent out of the choir room. The props closet is a mess. Dusty cardboard boxes that smell of mildew litter the poorly-crafted shelves. They were given no direction, just told to do whatever they want to do. Rachel doesn’t know how to sew. Her dads do, as evident by all of her custom skirts and stitched up blouses, but she would rather not utilize them here. Especially when she knows that Kurt is a master seamster. 

She keeps a safe distance away from him. He’s been a bit frosty and it reminds her of the days before the Glee club was founded. She doesn’t want to think that she’s messed it up permanently but she knows she might have. Although, that only frustrates her more than anything. Why can’t he see that Jesse’s not a bad guy?

She ignores the obvious answer that he would have to know the full story, because she isn’t ready to go there yet. 

Shelby, her mother, had lunch with her last weekend. They had little to talk about outside of show choir, though the topic was enough to last them an hour. Rachel came in not expecting much and she came out still not expecting much. She was a little idealistic in terms of what she had envisioned their grand meeting would be. Whether or not they can sustain a relationship is still up in the air now.

Kurt waves her over, one hand cradled underneath a box. “Can you give me a hand?”

She does, hefting the box up with him onto one of the shelves. Kurt opens it to reveal an assortment of thrift store wigs. “No, no. This won’t do,” he says.

“Everything in here is at least thirty years old,” Rachel comments. How their theater department manages to work with these props is beyond her.

Kurt sighs and runs a hand through his hair impatiently. “Looks like I’ll have to use some of my own stuff.”

“You can come over to my place after this,” she supplies, “My dads have two sewing machines and I’m sure they have a lot of fabric we can work with.”

He shakes his head, and Rachel tries to lift her sinking heart by adding, “And-and we can stop by the dollar store and pick up some popsicle sticks. I have a great idea for Jesse’s outfit.”

She meant to say Quinn. Freudian slip. It’s enough to make Kurt decline her offer again. He turns back to the boxes and Rachel’s left figuring out what exactly she needs to do to win him back.

***

“Serious question for you two.” Artie beckons Finn and Puck closer, making a makeshift huddle. She pops her head up to make sure everyone else is preoccupied before ducking back in and asking, “Do either of you even want to be in this thing?”

Because she sure as hell doesn't. Not for any particular reason. Lady Gaga just isn’t her style and while she trusts Kurt to make a stellar outfit for her, she would rather not parade around in something that will bring more attention to her. The boys share a look before shaking their heads at the same time. Perfect.

Artie continues to whisper, “Great. Neither do I.”

“What? I thought you’d be super into this,” Puck whispers back.

She tries not to look offended. “What about me makes you think that I would want to make an homage to _Bad Romance?!_ Have you seen the music video?”

“Guys, why are we whispering?” Finn asks.

Artie leans back, giving them an exaggerated sigh. “Regardless of whether or not I’m a fan of Gaga, I don’t want to be in this video. And now that I know neither of you want to be in it either, we can start planning something I’ve wanted to do ever since I joined this club.”

“Yeah?” Puck says, more curious than mocking.

She grins. “We’re in charge of the choreo, right? Let’s make it so awful that Mr. Shue regrets giving us this assignment in the first place.”

To her surprise, neither of them express immediate interest. Perhaps she shouldn’t have expected the guy with two left feet and the guy who wishes he had two left feet to realize just how much fun it would be to make those who are chorally-talented to struggle for once. 

Though Artie has to admit, she’s liking the fact that Finn and Puck have made up. Sort of. Ever since their little expedition to their rival schools before Sectionals, she’s thought of them as her friends, and she hopes they think of her as one too. 

“Okay, do either of you want to see Rachel dance the stanky leg or-”

“Deal,” Puck says. “Can you make Santana do the worm?”

“I think you meant to say, can _we_ make Santana do the worm,” Artie corrects, “And we totally can.”

***

Quinn doesn’t have any reservations about being put on a team with Santana, but she expects Santana to. She recognizes the guarded look in her eyes, because it’s something she’s learned to wear herself. Santana pairs it with her signature cynical smirk, handing Quinn the sheet music with her part.

It looks simple enough. Quinn got assigned more of the backing vocals while Jesse and Santana share the verses. They start with Jesse, who luckily for them - or unluckily, depending on who you ask - is absent.

“Where do you think he is?” Quinn asks conversationally as they switch sheet music. Santana’s part will definitely challenge her range but Quinn can see her pulling it off.

“Back home,” Santana answers, “enjoying a nice after-school snack with Stalin and Churchill while his father’s busy damning souls.”

That gets a laugh out of her, which makes Santana’s smile widen. 

She’d have to be a fool to not see how far they’ve drifted apart. Brittany’s tasked herself with being the glue, a job she’s been mostly failing at, but Quinn can appreciate the effort. She places a hand on her stomach subconsciously. There isn’t a lot of time left, for many things. Is she really okay with losing Santana? One of her oldest friends and confidants? Quinn doesn’t have an answer for that. Not yet.

“How are we supposed to practice without him?” Quinn takes a peek at Jesse’s sheet music. It’s hard to interpret the notes given that they’re in a different clef.

Santana shrugs. “I bet we could do it. Otherwise, I guess we can ask Berry for his number and plan our own rehearsal just for the three of us. You’d have to do it though.”

“Right, because Rachel and I are friends now.”

It was meant to be a joke but Santana’s smile slips, and Quinn tries her hand at damage control by asking Santana what she thinks Brittany’s team is planning. It was meant to be a joke, but it came out as a jab. It wouldn’t be too far from the truth to say that Quinn might be closer to Rachel than Santana at this point.

Quinn tries to take her mind off the kick she feels in her lower abdomen. There was more to their friendship than cheering and making fun of the losers in their school. They could have weathered any storm, except for this one.

***

“I gotta say, you’ve improved so much in the last few weeks,” Burt praises as Finn pulls into the shop. 

Finn rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. He knows he’s improved. There’s nowhere to go but up after hitting someone with your car. Still, it’s nice to be complimented on something he never thought he’d be able to do again. Surprisingly, he finds that he’s a better driver when someone’s riding with him. Gets his mind off his own shaky hands. 

“Thanks,” he tells Burt after he gets out. “I still can’t believe you’re letting me keep it.”

Burt waves his concerns away. Slapping the top of it affectionately, he takes a step back to look over the whole car. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she? She’s been stuck in the shop for too long. My own pet project, you know? Couldn’t ever get around to selling her. I’m just happy to give her out to a good home.”

“Actually, my friend and I want to do some remodeling, if that’s okay with you?” Finn asks, although he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth. He doesn’t know how long Burt’s had the car. It’s older than him and if it was Burt’s ‘pet project’, he doesn’t know how much of it is Burt’s touch-ups and how much of it is the original model.

But Burt just shrugs. “It’s not my car anymore. Do what you want with it.”

The idea came from a short convo with Puck after practice yesterday. They used to part-hunt in junkyards all the time for Puck’s motorcycle, and after seeing Finn’s new car, Puck suggested they spend the weekend looking for parts for it. Puck’s no mechanic but he knows his way around a motor. 

Finn said he’ll think about it. They’re still too new in their reformed friendship for him to be comfortable enough to agree right away. Working on the choreo has been fun but Finn isn’t sure if that’s because of Puck or if it’s because of Artie, who keeps coming up with the most disgusting dance moves he’s ever seen.

“Why do you keep making that face?” Burt asks, taking Finn out of his thoughts.

“What face?”

“That one.”

Finn looks in the side mirror. “Huh?”

“You know what, nevermind,” Burt says, “You should come inside for a bit. We can talk about the season because good lord, you guys have really done it this time.”

That puts a smile on Finn’s face. As the season’s nearing its end, his nerves are becoming more and more frayed. Not to mention that Regionals are in less than two weeks and Schue’s wasting their time on a stupid Gaga assignment. 

“Oh, Finn!” His mom greets him with an overenthusiastic wave when they get inside, and it’s enough to wipe the smile off his face instantly. 

At this point, he’s used to seeing his mom at the Hummels’. It’s sad, but Finn feels like she’s been spending more time there than in their own house. But this scene is a nightmare of its own. The coffee table is covered in strips of fabric with patterns so bright and flashy it makes his eyes sting. On the couch, along with a miserable-looking Kurt, are boxes of assorted arts-n-crafts supplies.

“Mom,” Finn starts. He shifts his foot, brushing it against a box full of various shapes of uncooked pasta. “What’s going on?”

His mom beams. “I heard Kurt was making costumes for the Glee Club so I went out and got him a bunch of supplies!”

Finn doesn’t know where his mom got the money from. There has to be over $200 worth of random junk here, and he recognizes most of the fabric as some of her and dad’s old clothes.

Kurt isn’t helping him out either. He just stares at the coffee table vacantly. Which means something is up. 

“Great,” Finn says, “but what’s actually going on?”

Her smile falters. She steps over a few of the boxes to get to Burt, who wraps an arm around her waist. “Well, I wanted to give Kurt a gift to celebrate us moving in with him!”

Her tone is sickeningly cheery, and suddenly everything makes sense. Her prolonged visits, them selling a lot of their furniture, Burt giving him a car for free. It was to soften the blow, and Finn fell for it. He fell for it so easily. At least he isn’t alone. Kurt must have already been told the news given how gloomy he looks. His eyes flicker up to Finn. There’s near-perfect concealed resentment in them.

“But, why? We already have a house with things in it,” Finn says, his thoughts racing too fast for him to worry about sounding coherent.

“I know sweetie but Burt offered,” his mom explains, “And this house is much bigger. With, uh, double the bathrooms!”

“But only two bedrooms,” Kurt adds on bitterly.

Finn already knows, but he asks anyway, “Does that mean Kurt and I will have to share a room?”

His mom and Burt share a look. “Well, yes.”

***

Kurt was already in a bad mood, considering Rachel’s inability to read body language had somehow worsened over the past couple weeks. Having Carole come in with boxes and boxes of costume supplies nearly sent him over the moon in comparison, until he saw how nervous she was.

He sat placidly on the couch as she and Finn launched into a short-lived argument. His dad wouldn’t let Finn yell at his mom. All he had to do was give Finn a stern look and he shut up in half a second. Now Finn has joined him on the couch as their parents discuss the situation in the kitchen. Part of Kurt is glad Finn didn’t immediately get on board with the plan. He needs allies. But another part of Kurt wishes he could brave this alone, because as much as he shouldn’t, Kurt can’t help but see Finn as one of the reasons the plan popped into their parents’ heads in the first place.

Eventually, Finn breaks the silence, “What are we going to do?”

“Suck it up and start picking paint swatches for your half of the room,” Kurt tries to joke.

Finn doesn’t pick it up. “Oh God. Are we really splitting your room? Sorry dude but I need my privacy. I’d rather sleep in here.”

And there it is. If it comes down to it, Kurt won’t fight sharing a room with Finn. Sure, he’ll mourn the extra space but he’d get over it eventually. They’ll get a privacy partition or curtain. No, Kurt won’t go down kicking and screaming in this regard. But Finn? 

“I don’t think I’ve even been in your room before. Is it big?” Finn continues, “What am I saying? We aren’t sharing a room, right?”

“No,” Kurt says, “because it would be gay to.”

Finn freezes. “That’s not-”

“Yes, it is.”

He really doesn’t have the energy to fight anymore, even if it didn’t take much to convince Mr. Schue to make wearing their costumes during school a choice and not a mandatory part of their assignment. Is it bad that he almost doesn’t want to win Regionals? They have a predicted 95% chance of winning Cheer Nationals, according to Brittany. Even with Finn - and now Puck, surprisingly - it’ll be like being back at where he started. Dumpsters.

“I’m serious bro, dude,” Finn corrects in the same breath, “It’s not a gay thing. I just need some privacy.”

“Would you be this apprehensive if it was Puck you were going to share with instead of me?” Kurt shoots back.

Finn gets a little pink around the tips of his ears; he doesn’t answer right away. Kurt had long expected that something was going on between them but he didn’t ever want to dig into it after seeing what Rachel’s reaction to her own denial-crush was. Quinn appears to be growing into her own, and he expects Puck is similarly on the brink of figuring things out. Finn’s a classic Rachel case though.

“Of course I would be appreh-apreehen- of course I wouldn’t want to share a room with Puck either. It’s not because it would be gay,” Finn insists.

“Well, whether we like it or not, we’re going to be sharing a room,” Kurt says.

Then he thinks of something that knocks the air out of his lungs. Finn’s family is moving in. That’s such a big step in a growing relationship. His dad is so happy with Carole, he would be hard-pressed to find a reason why they would break up. The next logical step, would be him and Finn becoming _brothers._

He looks at Finn to see if he came to the same conclusion but Finn is still rambling. He guesses he’ll have to wait until the shoe drops to discuss that.

***

“Hey there Princess.”

It came out softer than Santana had initially planned, and her stomach churns when Quinn turns around with a slight smile on her face. Santana hates how the auditorium looks when it’s empty. Her footsteps echo as she makes her way to the edge of the stage. Quinn steps up next to her and they both survey the empty rows.

She hopes the air isn’t as awkward as she thinks it is. Turning to her old friend, Santana asks, “Are you ready to take home a Regionals win?”

“Interesting question coming from someone who wants to make sure we _don’t_ take home a win,” Quinn says, “Or did Coach Sylvester’s plan change from when I last heard about it?”

It hasn’t. At least, not the end goal. Coach told Santana and Brittany to take a seat. The moment she heard about Jesse St. James and how he’s turned the choir room upside down, she fell in love with him. Her exact words to Santana were _don’t do anything to mess this up_. It made Santana’s blood boil. She was just another expendable tool to Coach Sylvester, and it only took getting replaced for her to really see that.

“Would I be a good spy if I told you that?” Santana asks instead of answering.

Quinn’s smile brightens, but only slightly. She shakes her head, a few strands of hair coming out of place and covering one of her eyes. “I guess not.”

“Are we going to keep dancing around the topic or do you want to hash it out before St. James comes back?”

“Pinning it on me was an interesting choice,” Quinn starts, “Maybe if it didn’t come from you, they would have believed it.”

“Who would you have pinned it on?”

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. “If I had done it? You.”

She would have gotten away with it, and Santana would have taken the heat. Which would have been fine. Something she would have handled fine. Santana's eyes flicker to the hair covering Quinn’s eye and how the auditorium fans cause it to sway, phasing her eye in and out of existence. She rolls the hair-tie off her wrist and hands it to Quinn. Taking it with a silent thanks, Quinn sweeps her hair up into a ponytail effortlessly. She ties it up with a cheer-grade bump.

“Did you bring the CD with the song on it?” Quinn asks, fluffing the tail out with her fingers.

Santana fishes it out of her bag. “Did you bring the CD player?”

Quinn’s already holding it in her hands when Santana turns around. They put it in and turn the player on, testing to make sure they have the acoustic version of the song. Once they reach the opening verse, Santana goes to turn it off before hearing Quinn softly singing;

_"I want your ugly, I want your disease  
I want your everything as long as it’s free   
I want your love, love, love, love   
I want your love, huh, bad.” _

“That’s not your part,” Santana says, turning off the music but not before she hears her part come in. 

Quinn gives her a look when she misses her cue. “Turn it back on. Let’s not waste practice time. I can fill in for Jesse until he gets here.”

This is an unconventional way for them to attempt to make up, but they’ve never had a conventional friendship. And if any of Mr. Schue’s mad ramblings are to be believed, it would be good to get their feelings out through song. _Bad Romance_ isn’t ideal, but Santana isn’t picky. They pick up where they left off.

_“I want your drama, the touch of your hand  
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand   
I want your love, love, love, love   
I want your love,  
Love, love, love, I want your love.” _

Quinn leans in, mindful to keep her feet rooted to the spot as Santana approaches her.

_“You know that I want you  
And you know that I need you   
I want it bad   
Your bad romance.” _

As they launch into the chorus together, Quinn leans back and takes a step back. She takes another one when Santana takes a step forward. And another, and another, and another. It turns into a little chase, resulting in them giggling and stumbling over words. Without discussing it prior, both of them point at each other at the words, _“You and me could write a bad romance”._

By the end of the song, Santana’s cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. And from the way Quinn’s hiding her mouth behind her hand, she’s feeling the same way.

“Well done ladies.”

Santana’s grown to hate that word. It’s condescending, it’s derogatory. It’s a stand-in for her name and a dagger at her back. Jesse St. James emerges from the back of the stage, having the decency to not slow-clap.

“You’re late,” Quinn says, her smile setting into a hard frown.

“My apologies Princess,” Jesse teases, “Maybe I should just leave you two alone. You sounded great without me.”

She can’t tell if he’s being sincere or not and it makes her whole body tighten. Quinn just gives him a cold stare and says, “You were assigned this part with us. Unless you want to make a complete fool of yourself on this stage tomorrow, you’ll stop with the jokes and practice with us.”

“But really,” Santana jumps in instinctively, “We wouldn’t mind seeing you floundering up here. And perhaps we’ll tell Schuester you were late to our practice.”

Quinn gives her an approving nod, and Santana feels the tension in her body slowly ebb away. Damn, she needs to work on not being a validation whore.

Jesse puts his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright. No need to do that. I was out with Rachel and I had to drive her back home, which is why I’m a little late-“

“No excuses,” Quinn interrupts tersely. 

“She has your number now. You should have sent me a text once you realized you were going to be late,” Santana adds.

Jesse looks back and forth between them, putting that charming smile back on, albeit with hints of nervousness this time. He knows he’s outnumbered and that the two of them aren’t as vulnerable as Berry. Santana gives him a smile in return. 

His spell is broken. At least, for her. 

***

Kurt managed to hide it from his dad by scurrying past him in the living room. It’s not even visible yet, just an angry, red spot on his cheek. From far away, it almost looks like he’s blushing. Maybe if he applies some product on his other cheek, it’ll look normal. Though he paints the risk of looking like a Russian nesting doll.

He’s hoping Finn will be less perceptive. They’re supposed to be redecorating his room - their room - after school today. Finn’s car was already in the driveway when Kurt pulled in, and sure enough, Finn’s looking at one of the walls with a book of paint swatches in his hands. He gives Kurt a tentative smile as he drops his bag off at the base of the staircase.

“You’re looking at my side of the room,” Kurt says.

Finn looks around, sees Kurt’s sewing machine to his left. “Oh, sorry dude. Wait, did you already section off my part of the room?”

He’s referring to the pale blue painter’s tape Kurt had laid down the prior morning. Kurt tried his hardest to make the sections even, although he’ll admit he may have given himself a few more square feet. It was his room originally; it just made sense to. “Yeah,” Kurt says, “but we can re-section it if you’re not satisfied with how much space you get.”

Finn’s eyes trail the painter’s tape around the whole room. Kurt intends to keep his section’s walls and floor the same and he cringes just thinking about Finn’s possible choices. Goodbye symmetry.

“Huh.” When Finn finishes looking around, his eyes end on Kurt and not any other part of the room. “Did you get hit or something?”

Kurt has to look away. It should have been obvious to him that Finn would recognize the bruise on his face. He’s a football player. Injuries, even as mild as a bruise, would be easy to pick out. Kurt thinks back to after Sectionals. How Puck’s face was covered with them. A constant reminder to Finn of his own pride. Kurt has to wonder if the guy who pushed him against the lockers will feel the same way when they see each other next practice. He didn’t get a good look at his face. But honestly, does it matter? Does it matter if he can put a name to a face when the next time it happens? It will just be a new face.

He remembers when it used to be Finn’s face he saw before getting dropped into a dumpster or pushed up against the lockers. How the sight of him caused his body to freeze up. Now they’re in his room and Finn’s eyes are filled with concern. 

“No, I didn’t get hit,” Kurt says. “I just got shoved against my locker. I wasn’t expecting it so I didn’t put my hands up to stop my head from hitting it.”

“Who was it?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I don’t know, I couldn’t see his face. He ran away as soon as I turned around.”

He was expecting Finn to be angry, because that’s all he’s ever seen from Finn in this type of situation. Anger and hurt. He wasn’t expecting Finn to look apologetic. Almost as if he believes it was his fault.

“I should have told you I got it from cheering,” Kurt says, mostly to himself. Which wouldn’t have been completely false. Kurt’s gotten kicked, punched, slapped, and shoved into the ground more often than he wants to admit. He’s dangerously close to getting his split.

“You did get it from cheering,” Finn says, and Kurt understands. 

“I’m quitting after Nationals,” Kurt says as a way of consoling him.

Finn grimaces. “But it’ll be too late, huh? Look, Kurt? I don’t want to share your room, and yeah, maybe part of it is because you’re gay. But it’s not the only reason. I feel bad around you. Guilty, and I know that’s something I have to work on now that we’re going to be living with each other but I don’t want us both to be miserable until I figure things out.”

Suddenly Kurt wishes they could go back to talking about the room. They stand in silence for a moment or two before Kurt says, “I could move into the attic. You’d have to help me move everything out though.”

It’s a compromise, in more ways than one. Finn nods wordlessly.

***

Personally, Artie doesn’t think it was that bad.

The choreo she, Finn, and Puck came up with was horrific but they ultimately had to cut a ton of it due to the costumes Kurt and Rachel carted in. Kurt’s costumes were immaculate. High fashion, and Finn told her that he had a hand in creating them. Rachel’s costumes looked more hand-made but they were able to withstand a lot of movement. And that’s all they were looking for.

They went with an homage, taking scenes from the official music video and putting their own New Directions twist on them. Just without the nudity. At one point, Brittany turned the lights in the auditorium off and they had to work on sound alone. Which was brilliant. Quinn, Santana, and Jesse worked surprisingly well together, although Artie could clock those fixed smiles from a mile away. The three of them changed the vocal arrangement, much to the delight of Mr. Schue. Quinn took over the pre-chorus, nailing the sultry tone Gaga had in the original. 

Rachel and Kurt played nice in the background. Rachel opted to make her own costume and shed stuffed animals across the stage, which Kurt took advantage of by using them as props.

It was a disaster in the best sense of the word.

“Guys, you’ve exceeded my expectations,” Mr. Schue says as they end their final take. Those on stage are breathing hard but preening from the praise. “Santana, I didn’t know you could speak French so well.”

She smiles, tapping her head with a finger, “Perks of being bilingual. You pick these things up effortlessly.”

Leaving Mr. Schue to give more praise, Artie makes her way to her teammates stationed at the side of the stage. Despite their main focus being on the choreo, Mercedes also assigned them to do lights and sound. Finn’s still trying to find which pulley closes the main curtain when she gets up to them.

“Nice work boys,” she says sincerely.

“I have no idea how Santana managed to do the worm in that dress but it kinda turned me on,” Puck says in lieu of a proper greeting.

Finn grunts, pulling hard on one of the pulleys. It ends up being the wrong one, and the back curtains fly open, spooking everyone on stage. After yelling out an apology, Finn socks Puck in the arm. “Dude, enough of that. Think of what Quinn would say if she heard you say that.”

“She’d probably be happy to know that she doesn’t have me whipped for her,” Puck says. 

Artie looks out at the stage. She doesn’t know how far along Quinn is but it can’t be too much longer. She couldn’t do any of the choreo, not that Artie’s complaining, and Kurt had to do some quick readjustments on her outfit before they could start filming. Quinn seems to feel their eyes on her, because she looks over her shoulder and waves at them.

“How are you feeling?” Artie asks Puck, knowing he understands what the question is in reference to.

“Am I supposed to be feeling anything?”

Finn tries another pulley, this time the main curtains move. “You should, it’s your kid.”

“But it’s not,” Puck says. Artie and Finn look at him in surprise. “I mean, yeah it is. That’s how science works and stuff. But if it’s my kid, then it’s also Quinn’s. And she says it’s not her kid, so that means it’s also not mine?”

Artie watches him struggle, unsure of what to say. Both she and Finn get what he’s trying to say but she thinks it’s for the best if he tries to work it out on his own.

“So like,” he continues. “It’s like-”

“Listen dude,” Finn says, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We get it. You want to be a good dad. I didn’t grow up with a dad either, remember? Although I might be getting another one soon,” he quickly says under his breath, only comprehensible to Artie, “And I turned out fine, I think. Do you think you can handle raising a kid now? You’re not ready to be a parent yet.”

“It’s okay to feel conflicted about things,” Artie says. “And your kid is going to a family who will take care of them. Him. Her. What gender are they?”

“She’s a girl,” Finn says. “Quinn told me a few weeks ago.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Puck gripes, “I’ve been trying to name the thing Jack for a while now.”

Artie asks, “Jack?"

“Like Jack Daniels.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “Dude, that’s sick. Back when I thought it was mine, I tried to name it Drizzle.”

“Bro, that’s a rocking name.”

“I know!”

Artie rolls her eyes. Boys. “As long as you remember that it’s not your job to name it, you two can have fun trying to come up with all the potential baby names you want.”

The two of them don’t seem to hear her. They just continue to rattle off baby names, some more absurd than others. Artie has to stay and watch for a little. Reveling in nostalgia and remembering a time before she had to brace herself before heading into the choir room.

***

Puck strums his guitar. Partly because he wants to make sure it’s in key and partly because he needs to distract himself from his nerves.

“Listen up everyone,” Mr. Schue says, whistling to get his attention. He pats Puck on the back. “I’ve finished editing the music video, and we’ll be watching it today for rehearsal. But before I do that, Puck wanted to sing a song for us.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, “It’s not Gaga but... Regionals are coming up, and I just wanted to give a special performance to everyone who’s helped me out. I still think this club is for losers, but you losers have really been there for me and, yeah.”

He could have worded it better but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that it sounded a little gay, either. 

Finn stayed over yesterday, told Puck that he was moving in with Kurt. They sat on his front porch, sipping soda out of cans and counting how many cars passed by his house. At some point, they got back on the topic of baby names.

Brad starts playing the piano and Puck takes a deep breath.

_“Beth, I hear you callin'  
But I can't come home right now   
Me and the boys are playin'   
And we just can't find the sound.” _

_I’ve always liked Beth as a name_ , Finn had said, throwing a rock he picked up from the driveway into the street. _For a girl. There’s a song by KISS named Beth that my mom likes. Still can’t believe she likes KISS._

And Puck rolled with it.

_“Just a few more hours  
And I'll be right home to you.” _

He knows it’s not his kid anymore, that it was never his kid, but he likes to think that he might have called her Beth. Might have held her and cooed her name. It’s a thought and image he has to bury, for now.

_“I think I hear them callin'  
Oh Beth, what can I do?   
Beth, what can I do?” _

_You’re going to be a great dad. Just not now,_ Finn had said. _When we both get out of here and get jobs, you’ll be able to support a kid. Maybe just wait a few more years._

Quinn’s silent and unmoving. He realizes she might be taking this the wrong way but he’s too far into it to stop now. That’s a discussion for later. She left him and Finn alone that night. Stayed with Santana.

_“You say you feel so empty  
That our house just ain't a home   
And I'm always somewhere else   
And you're always there alone.” _

_Where did you go last night?_ he had asked her this morning.

She just smiled her little smile and said, _Won a friend’s heart back._

And maybe Puck has too. He looks at Finn, who grins and gives him a thumb’s up.

_“Just a few more hours  
And I'll be right home to you.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: We're sad we couldn't do the Tina-Vampire storyline. It's just as absurd as we remembered.
> 
> From this chapter on, the Hudsons are living with the Hummels. Kurt lives in the attic while Finn took over his room in the basement.
> 
> This is also Micah's last solo chapter for the fic! They'll be back to kick off Season 2 with Audition.


	21. Funk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: The New Directions recorded a music video of Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance because Rachel found out that Vocal Adrenaline is doing a Lady Gaga Mix for Regionals. Finn and his mom moved in with Kurt and his dad, which neither of them were really a fan of. Quinn and Santana made up and so did Finn and Puck but Rachel still feels isolated from the rest of the Club. On top of all of that, Mr. Schue still hasn’t told them what they’re doing for Regionals.
> 
> And that's what you missed, on Glee!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that this episode was actually supposed to be written by Micah but since Micah wrote the last episode due to our order of writing, Cecelia gets to write this epsiode. Aka Funk, aka that episode with that one scene of Jesse. You’ll see what we mean later on if you don’t don’t immediately recognize it.
> 
> Chapter written by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphy

_“It is now my honor to present the 2010 National Cheer Championship Trophy to the captain of the William McKinley High School Cheerios, Santana Lopez!”_

The crowd is cheering. Brittany is kissing her on the cheek, leaving a warmth that she knows won’t disappear for the rest of the day even though she instantly wipes the lipstick stain off. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Kurt take a running leap into Mercedes’ arms.

And then Santana’s teammates are hoisting her onto their shoulders the same way they did for Quinn last year, and she’s raising a National Championship trophy skyward. It should be one of the happiest days of her life.

But when she’s back on the sideline packing up and Coach Sylvester approaches her with that sickeningly smug smile, Santana can’t help but think that if this is as good as her life gets, she deserves a refund.

“Well, I’ll be damned, Gloria Estefan Jr. You actually did it. You’ve secured my sixth consecutive national championship, with the seventh and eighth still in your future. If history is any guide, Louisville and Kentucky will be in a bidding war for your services so bloody it will make Pete Carroll’s NCAA recruiting violations look like a firm handshake and a bag of fun-size Kit-Kats.”

Santana doesn’t say anything. It’s just another of Coach’s embarrassingly overwritten monologues, there’s no way she’s letting it get to her today.

“Porcelain and Aretha have regrettably informed me that they will not be returning to the Cheerios next year, so we’ll need to find a new circus act to appease the bleeding hearts on the competition committee.” Coach absentmindedly caresses the Nationals trophy next to Santana’s bag. “I’m thinking I’ll steal Finchel from Will Schuester and shoot them out of a canon; they’ll certainly have nothing else to live for once you and Brittany destroy their precious Glee Club.”

Santana resists the urge to roll her eyes and looks around for anything else to focus on. From across the field, she sees Brittany signing the back of Kurt and Mercedes’ uniforms. At least they’re having fun.

“You know, I can’t tell you how proud I am of the job you’ve done this year. You remind me of a young, closeted lesbian Sue Sylvester, and you’re almost as flexible. Your reign at this school is just beginning, and don’t you ever forget who put you there.” She slaps Santana on the back and starts to walk away.

All Santana has to do is let her.

“You said the exact same thing to Quinn last year.” Or she could say that.

Coach stops on a dime and whirls around to face her. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was standing right next to her. How many captains has it been since you changed the words?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’m a champion, success tends to run together. You’ll find that out soon enough.”

“Except you tossed Quinn aside the moment she was no longer useful to you.”

She knows this isn’t a fight that should be picking, but her muscles are sore from exhaustion and her nerves are buzzing from the adrenaline of the victory, and it’s bringing all the frustration of the last two years under Coach’s thumb to the surface.

Coach throws her hands up in exasperation. “Oh for the love of- I don’t recall you complaining when it got you the top spot. I coach winners, and if Quinn couldn’t keep her damage under control enough to avoid becoming a teen mom, then she was never Cheerios material in the first place.”

“So how long do I really have then? Until you decide to throw me under the bus too.”

“Well that depends on how well you’re willing to look the part.” She looks at Santana with cold disappointment in her eyes. “You know this, it’s been how the Cheerios work since day one. I know none of you actually read the contracts I draw up, but I figured my message was delivered clearly enough, given how willing you’ve been to repeatedly stab your new friends in the back on my behalf. So you have nothing to worry about, unless you and the token white girl from Beyonce’s posse are planning on doing something very foolish in the near future.”

She’s used to questioning glances and insinuations. And she’s even used to implicit threats from Coach Sylvester. But when she sees the cynical calculations in Coach’s eyes, she realizes she won’t be able to take another two years of this.

“Santana! Look who came to see us!”

Brittany walks over to them, and Santana is shocked to see her arm in arm with Quinn.

“Quinn, you came all the way out to Indiana for this? Why would you-

“I wouldn’t miss your big win. And I can still appreciate a first-class Cheer routine.” Quinn smiles wryly, picking up the Nationals trophy. “Huh, these really do get bigger every year.”

“Q, take your swollen hands off of my trophy and take your bastard fetus off my field. I’m having a conversation with my Head Cheerio.” The casual delivery does nothing to obscure the cruelty, and something inside Santana snaps.

“First of all, Coach, you did exactly as much work to win this trophy today as Quinn did, so if you can fondle it so can she. And I really hope you appreciate it, because it’s the last one you’re going to be winning for a long time. I quit.”

Coach laughs. “Nobody quits the Cheerios. You either die or I kick you out - oh, god, you’re serious.”

Santana realizes she might be making the biggest mistake of her life, but Quinn is glowing with pride and Brittany’s eyes are shining, so she knows she’ll just have to make it worth it.

“Very. Find someone else to be your lackey.”

Coach Sylvester is glowering now. “Well, Brittany, congratulations on your promotion.”

“Oh, I’m quitting too.” Brittany smiles at Santana. “I don’t really want to be a cheerleader if none of my friends are, and trying to teach the Glee Club to dance is a better challenge than your routines anyway.”

“It was good to see you Coach Sylvester.” Quinn’s voice drips with her old sarcasm. “Glad everything you’ve done this year is paying off; enjoy polishing your trophy collection.” She grabs Brittany and Santana’a hands. “Come on girls, let’s join the party.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet, I’m getting cavities. Like I need any of you anyway, I could win a National Championship with nothing but Becky Jackson and the JV field hockey team on three days of practice, so don’t come crawling back to me when -”

As the three of them walk away, Coach’s ramblings fade into the noise of the crowd.

“Are you sure about this?” Brittany asks. Santana doesn’t ask her to specify.

“No.”

“Does this mean we’re going to try to win Regionals?”

Santana sighs. “Might as well.”

“Well if that’s the case,” Quinn says quietly, “Then meet me after school tomorrow. I have an idea to make that possible."

***

“Thank you for being here.” Quinn looks at the two girls across from her, the girls who were her entire world once upon a time, and she realizes it’s the first time she’s ever seen them at school in civilian clothes. “Especially since I’m sure we would all prefer to forget the room that once hosted the Celibacy Club.”

“Excuse you, I have very fond memories of scaring Puckerman half to death by popping a balloon into his crotch on purpose.” Santana’s staring into her hand mirror, fixing her makeup and looking incredibly bored, and it hits Quinn all over again how much she’s been missing her.  
“Plus you kept my mom company on the drive out to Indianapolis to watch the final Cheer routine of my career, so we’ll call it even or whatever.”

“And anyway, why wouldn’t we be here?” Brittany chimes in. “We’re your best friends.”

Quinn smiles sadly. “I appreciate that Britt, but I haven’t exactly been there for you as much as I should have.”

Brittany furrows her eyebrows. “I mean, yeah, because you got pregnant? And then you were busy getting Rachel to fall in love with-”

“What Brittany is trying to say,” interrupts Santana, for which Quinn is extremely grateful, “is that what’s done is done.” She puts down the mirror and meets Quinn’s eyes.. “None of us are Cheerios anymore, and if Glee Club gets disbanded then we’d have nothing to do next year.”

Quinn fights back the tears that threaten to well up, because she can’t ruin this moment. “I really am sorry about the Cheerios. I never would have wanted you to give it up.”

Santana shakes her head. “Look, the Unholy Trinity is a package deal. If Coach doesn’t want one of us, she doesn’t want any of us. And I for one am very excited to put Jesse St. James in his place and then wear actual clothes for the rest of the year, so enough with all this sentimentality and give us your diabolical plan.”

(Quinn wants to think this is the feeling of being loved again, but she’s starting to realize that it’s the feeling of being loved for the first time.)

“Alright.” She takes a deep breath to steady herself. “Rachel has been M.I.A. and we can’t win without her - at least not this time. And I think we all know who’s to blame.”

Brittany nods. “Former Vice President Dick Cheney.”

Quinn takes it in stride. “I’m referring, of course, to Jesse St. James.”

“I always get those two confused,” Brittany mutters.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what his deal is, or how he managed to transfer schools so abruptly, but I think we all know he’s had Rachel in his crosshairs from day one, and that can’t mean anything good.”

Santana smiles. “You’d know that from experience, wouldn’t you Q?”

Quinn looks down at her lap. “I know I’ve been horrible to Rachel, even more so than I’ve been horrible to everyone. Which is exactly why I have to do this. I have to make sure she’s okay.”

Santana rolls her eyes affectionately. “I was just teasing you, Jesus. So how are we going to white knight for Berry? It’s not like we can just break into Carmel High and spy on Vocal Adrenaline - oh god, that’s exactly what we’re doing, isn’t it.”

She’s seen the look on Quinn’s face, and Quinn only hopes it communicates more confidence than she’s feeling right now.

“Got it in one.”

Santana sighs. “Come on then. My car is parked out back.”

***

“Do you think she’ll come?” Finn twirls his drum sticks around in his hands, hoping the tension in the air will start to thaw if he just says the right things.

Kurt nods. “She will. I threatened to post myself singing _Mama Who Bore Me_ on MySpace if she didn’t show, and there’s no song in Broadway history she hates more than that.”

“Dude,” Finn whistles. “That’s pretty ruthless.”

Kurt shrugs. “We do what we have to do. Speaking of which,” he looks down at the playbook that lies open on the floor between them, which Finn has been pouring over all week. “You ready to win a state championship tonight?”

Finn smiles. “Oh, for sure. With you on our side Carmel doesn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m fairly certain that there are about a hundred other players on the field that will have something to say about that, but I appreciate your confidence.” Kurt squints his eyes as he scans the pages. “Even if I still for the life of me can’t tell the difference between a dig route and a drag route.”

“Dude, you’ve got it. They’re the same thing.”

“Oh. That’s… frustratingly inefficient.”

“Yeah, Rachel can’t stand football terminology either. She really is a lot like you.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” The crinkle in Kurt’s eyes assures Finn he doesn’t really mean it.  
“Though I suppose opposites do attract. That’s why she’s in love with you and just kind of stuck with me.”

“Woah, hold up. No one ever said anything about being in love.” Finn frowns. “And besides, I haven’t been able to talk to her since Jessie’s Girl. I’m starting to think taking Quinn’s advice on how to get Rachel to date me wasn’t the best idea.”

“What wasn’t the best idea?” The doors fly open and Rachel emerges from the shadows, smiling softly at them as she jogs up the ramp to join them on stage. “Sorry I’m late,” she adds.

“Mr. Schue wanting to do a funk number at Regionals,” Kurt lies easily.

Rachel breaks into a laugh. “Oh, I know, did you see Artie’s face when he said _Good Vibrations_ was funk? I’ve never seen her look that murderous.”

“I thought Mercedes was going to walk out of the room right then and there, and I would have joined her.”

Finn smiles, “Oh come on, he was probably just trying to make the inevitable Journey medley go down easier.”

“Honestly, and I know how ridiculous I’m about to sound, it’s not that bad of an idea. We know Vocal Adrenaline are doing a Lady Gaga theme, so what better way to counter their set than with a themed setlist of our own?”

Finn locks eyes with Kurt. “I mean, it makes a certain amount of sense,” Kurt grudgingly admits.

“Yeah totally, it’s just, I don’t really know what Journey song would be good for the solo.”

“What solo?”

Finn and Kurt stare at Rachel in what Finn is pretty sure is equal amounts of disbelief.

“Your solo. You know, for Regionals?”

“Oh!” She blushes. “Actually, I don’t think we should go in that direction.” Seeing their eyes widen, she rushes to clarify. “I mean, I already had to use the biggest weapon in my arsenal to get us over the top at Sectionals, and my second best song is, uh, off the table for now.” She glances shyly at Kurt. “And I don’t really want to gamble our futures on anything but my best. So I think my opening number should be a duet.”

Finn’s heart sinks. “You mean with Jesse.”

Rachel stares at him. “No, Finn. With you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really. Jesse’s talented, but there will be plenty of room for him in the rest of the set. But we’ve been singing together since day one, and frankly our voices are a better combination for show choir. With Jesse and I, it’s like the same voice split into two different registers. But with you and me, there’s actual contrast. And I think the judges will appreciate the unique energy that we bring, especially Josh Groban.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “Josh Groban is one of the judges? That’s awesome!” His excitement dies, though, when he sees the hardened look on Kurt’s face. “Dude, what’s wrong?”

“There’s no way you could possibly know who the judges are. Those have never been leaked to the Show Choir blogs.”

“I just, ah, heard a rumor. Jesse told me.”

“Jesse couldn’t have told you. Directors are the only ones who have that information and we all know Mr. Schue is about as clued in to his own profession as Sarah Brightman is to the nuances of acting.”

Rachel tries to laugh it off, “Well, I guess Jesse is better connected than we are.”

“Rachel.” Kurt’s voice is nothing but tired. “Where have you really been the last couple of weeks?”

Finn doesn’t understand what Kurt’s getting at, and he’s even more confused when Rachel’s face crumbles into guilt.

“The week I got sick,” she glances pensively at Finn, “Jesse told me something he wasn’t supposed to. Something I was never supposed to know.” Her eyes lose focus as she looks into the middle distance. “He told me he knew my mother.”

Finn’s drumsticks clatter to the floor. “Your mother?”

“Shelby Corcoran.” Rachel and Finn both look at Kurt in surprise. The name that leaves his lips isn’t a question.

Rachel’s mouth falls open. “How did you-”

“It’s not hard to put two and two together. Jesse whisking you away, your sudden possession of trade secrets. And there was, uh, something that April Rhodes let slip to me when she was drunk about her college ex-girlfriend who had resurfaced on the show choir scene. I didn’t think think much of it at the time, but now-”

“Dude, wasn’t April Rhodes always drunk?”

“The point,” Kurt shushes Finn with a glare, “is that it seemed like you were ready to make up with us when you dropped off the face of the planet. I figured it had to be something big, and the signs were all there.”

Rachel’s stunned expression slowly gives way to relief. “Well, you’re right. I’ve been having dinner with her for the last week.” She reaches out to take Kurt and Finn’s hands. “Oh, you have no idea how much of a relief it is to tell you this - she wanted to stay away to protect me, but Jesse took a risk and introduced us, and we sang the most beautiful duet-”

 _“I Dreamed A Dream?”_ Kurt’s voice is neutral, but Finn can sense the tension in his face.

“Yes, ok, it was predictable, but she has such an incredible voice, and it feels so amazing to know my talent isn’t just the result of years of discipline and self-deprivation, that it actually comes from somewhere. And you know I’ll always love my two gay dads, but to have this connection I never even thought was possible, oh it was just utterly magical, I can’t wait for you two to meet her! ”

Finn glances at Kurt, silently arguing over which one of them has to be the one to say it.

Ultimately, Kurt wins out.

“Look, Rachel?” Finn begins as carefully as he can. “You know we want you to be happy, and I have no doubt that this was an amazing experience.” He winces; there’s no way to make this go down easy. “But don’t you think there’s something that’s just a little, I don’t know, convenient about this?”

Rachel’s smile freezes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean Jesse just happens to transfer to our school for seemingly no reason, treating everyone terribly except for you, and then introduces you to your long lost biological mother who just happens to be the Coach of his old show choir who you’re about to compete against? You have to admit that seems kind of sketchy.”

Her smile is gone completely now, and Finn hates himself for it, but the nod of encouragement from Kurt tells him he’s doing the right thing.

“No, I don’t think I have to admit that.” She shakes her head vigorously, “It’s unlikely, sure, but isn’t that what this year has been about? I mean, where would any of us be if not for the freak accident of me overhearing you sing in the shower after a football game that I never wanted to go to?”

Finn takes a deep breath. He’s completely out of his depth here, but he has to try. He can’t shake the feeling that Rachel is in serious danger.

“Look, Rach, I would love for all of this to be exactly what you think it is. If anyone deserves it it’s you. But what Jesse did is a major violation of a pretty serious agreement. And even if Shelby didn’t know about it, it’s really reckless of her to immediately throw caution to the wind and start acting like she’s actually your mother.”

He knows he’s gotten the words wrong - he wonders if he’ll ever get them right - but it’s too late, and Rachel is already retreating behind the tears in her eyes.

“Wow. If that’s really how you feel, then I don’t know if I can be around you right now.”

And with that, she turns on her heels and is out the door before Finn can even react. He looks helplessly at Kurt, who looks just as lost. “Hey, don’t look at me, you know she won’t listen to me like this.”

Finn sinks to the ground, “Yeah, because she’s totally gonna give me a second chance after that. I might as well have signed her transfer papers to Carmel High the way this is going.”

He gets silence in return, and when he looks up to see Kurt staring at a familiar device. “Um, dude ? Why are you checking my phone?”

Kurt scrambles to his feet and holds out the display. “Because this can’t wait. You need to go after her, now.”

***

“Aren’t these clowns supposed to be a show choir juggernaut?” Santana checks the empty hallway and then waves Quinn and Brittany through the door. “Their security is atrocious, they make the Jane Addams lesbians look like they went to school at Area 51.”

“Arrogance, probably.” Quinn speculates. “They’re so busy spying on everyone else they never dreamed someone would dare do it to them.”

“Area 51 isn’t even worth the effort,” Brittany mutters. “It’s just a bunch of boxes with more boxes in them, and they aren’t even alphabetized.”

Quinn looks at Santana to try to gauge whether that was a joke - she’s gotten better at deciphering Brittany-isms over the years but not quite as good as Santana - but she’s only met with a shrug.

“Wait, listen.” Santana throws an arm out and brings them to a halt. “Do you hear that?”

And sure enough, Quinn can just make out the thunderous beat of a rock band drifting from down the long corridor.

She narrows her eyes. “That’s not Gaga. That’s… ” The pattern kicks in and her breath hitches in shock.

“Queen.” She meets Santana’s eyes and she knows they’re thinking the same thing.

“RUN.”

They tear down the hallway as fast as Quinn’s condition can allow, finally skidding to a halt just outside the open doors of an auditorium’s balcony. The entryway is dark, but a pulsating blue light emanates from what must be the stage.

Crouching low and raising a finger to her lips, Quinn silently motions Brittany and Santana to follow her into the darkness, where the full scope of the plan that has been unfolding under their noses all this time is laid bare.

As the legions of Vocal Adrenaline move in terrifying synchronicity to the pounding baseline, Jesse St. James’ unmistakeable mop-top moves to center stage, and his signature high pitched growl chills Quinn to the bone even at the furthest edge of the room.

“We have to get out of here,” hisses Brittany. “We have to warn them.”

“No time for that.” Quinn digs into her pocket and flips open her phone. Silently, she sends a message to the only person she can trust with this knowledge, and prays to a God she no longer believes in that he gets it in time.

_“And another one gone_  
_And another one gone_  
_Another one bites the dust!”_

***

“Rachel! Wait!”

Finn tries to catch up with her, which should be easy considering his legs are about as long as her entire body, but when she moves with a purpose she really is fast.

“I don’t want to hear it Finn. I promise I’ll still sing with you at Regionals, but after that I think it’s best if we go our separate-”

“I just got a text from Quinn.” He’s counting on the fact that the mention of Quinn’s name stops Rachel dead in her tracks, and he isn’t disappointed.

“Oh my god, is-is she okay, did something happen to the baby?”

“She’s at Carmel High. With Brittany and Santana.”

Rachel’s eyes widen, then she breathes out an exasperated sigh of relief. “God, those two are such a bad influence.” She runs her fingers through her hair. “How much trouble did they get in for a stunt like that? Are they - oh my god, are they disqualified for Regionals?”

“They didn’t get caught. In fact they’re on their way back as we speak.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Rachel’s eyes show nothing but confusion, and it breaks Finn’s heart that he has to make her understand.

“They saw Vocal Adrenaline practicing their setlist. And, well, for one thing they aren’t doing Gaga. They’re doing Queen.”

Rachel’s laugh is nervous. “Oh, is that all? Sure, that’ll be a tougher challenge, but I can’t imagine they have anything better than our _Somebody to Love_ , and if we get the arrangement right for _Don’t Stop Believin’_ we should be able to do even better than that.”

“Rachel.” He can already see the realization on her face, but he has to say it. “Jesse was leading them. And Shelby Corcoran was directing him.”

“No.” There’s no fight in the word. Only pain.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

As she collapses in on herself, he steps forward to catch her in his arms. He hates that she looks so small, and he wants nothing more than to make Jesse pay for hurting her right this instant.

But she doesn’t need that right now. She just needs a friend. And after all this, he could never forgive himself if he failed to be that for her.

He sinks to the ground so she can bury her face in his shoulder, and rubs small circles into her back as her body heaves with sobs.

***

Rachel has to see for herself.

She knows Quinn isn’t lying to her, even if the entire history of their relationship should suggest otherwise. But still, she has to hear it from him. She has to kill the stubborn part of her that still can’t accept what she now knows to be true, that still insists that she can’t have been suckered in so easily.

(That she can’t have found her mother only to lose her this cruelly.)

The New Directions should be making their way to the choir room now - she finally managed to convince Finn that she was alright and sent him to round up the rest of the team - which means none of them will be around to stop her. And if the text Jesse sent her after she asked to meet was true (which, granted, seems a foolish thing to assume now) then this won’t take long. She might not even be late.

She sneaks out the side of the auditorium and makes it into the parking lot without anyone noticing her, and when she sees Jesse, she sighs in relief. His smile is contrite, but warm, and his eyes are full of the same compassion she saw when he took her to see her mom.

She thinks back to Between the Sheets, to Madonna week and that glimpse of possibility that they’ve never quite been able to get back, and she can’t help but wonder if there isn’t still something between them worth preserving. If he just explains, if he apologizes, then maybe they can get past this. Regionals will provide more than enough opportunity for her to settle the score, and she has no doubt her team is going to win.

So in spite of all her instincts she returns his smile and breaks into a jog, because she is so ready for this to be over, one way or another.

She’s halfway to him when it all goes wrong. His eyes go cold, his smile turns sinister, and her brain is screaming at her to stop but her body fails to respond in time, unable to reverse its momentum.

At least, until she feels the sickening impact of the egg with the back of her head.

And then another, on her left shoulder.

And another, right between her ribs.

Another. Another. Another.

By the time she gains the presence of mind to drop to the ground and shrink into the fetal position, it’s already over, and all she can do is surrender to the shock as she tries to block out the cacophony of laughter from Vocal Adrenaline.

“That’s how we do it Jesse!” howls a blue skirt in triumph. “Come on, let’s disappear.”

“You get them out of here, Shoshandra.” Jesse’s voice is dangerously calm, and Rachel knows the worst is yet to come. “I’ll finish cleaning up the mess.”

She squeezes her eyes shut as she hears the rumbling of footsteps, the start of an ignition, and the squeal of a bus peeling away much too quickly. And then, in another cruel bout of whiplash, gentle hands are helping her to her feet.

“Idiots.” Jesse’s voice drips with contempt. “They never could let go of our more barbaric traditions. The things we do for teamwork, right Rachel?”

“Get off me.” She’s finally coming back to her senses, and it’s the revulsion she feels at her name on his lips that gives her the strength to push him away. “You don’t get to betray me, lure me into an ambush, and then act like we’re on the same side. How stupid do you think I am?”

She doesn’t know what to expect, just that she’s more than ready for a fight.

Instead, Jesse just sighs. “Rachel, Rachel, you sweet, naive fool.” He puts his hands on her shoulders again, and this time she’s too frozen from fear to pull away.

“Look, I’m doing what I have to do to win, no different than you. But we both know that none of this ultimately matters, right?”

She knows she should be running for her life, but the softness of his voice seems to make time move with the same viscosity as molasses.

“Bullshit,” Rachel spits with as much fire as she can muster. “If none of it matters, why go to all this trouble, orchestrate your own transfer twice in the span of three months, just to sabotage one girl for one rival show choir?”

Jesse rolls his eyes. “Because sometimes you have to play the short game to win the long game. I need to keep team chemistry together and nip any potential nuisances in the bud if I’m going to win my second of four consecutive National championships. The college application process demands it.”

He shrugs, as if egging a teenage girl is a totally reasonable form of resume padding. “But there’s a reason we targeted you, and not the wannabe divas from Aural Intensity or that hair-gelled new captain across the river in Westerville.”

Rachel swallows the fear in her throat and tries to maintain eye contact, but she never quite manages to find his pupils. “And that is?”

“Because you’re better than all of them.” Her eyes widen, and he tightens his grip on her shoulders. “You’re like me, Rachel, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She tries to fight off the overwhelming cold that’s enveloping her. “I am nothing like you.”

Jesse smiles. “No?” He lets go to pace in front of her, his hands animated as he talks. “Years singing into the mirror, being shunned by your backwards-looking peers for reminding them of their own mediocrity? Pushing people away because you know they’ll never stay, until one day you finally realize that you were always meant to fly above them? Don’t lie to me, Rachel, you’re not nearly clever enough for that. You can’t seriously look me in the eye and tell me you don’t recognize yourself in everything I’m saying.”

“Did my mo-did Shelby Corcoran really put you up to this?” She can barely get the words out. She’s never felt more sick in her life.

“Oh, it’s not what you think.” Jesse shakes his head. “Sure, she authorized me to do whatever it takes to win, including sabotaging our best competition, but she had no intention of breaking her no-contact order until I made that decision for her.”

“She sent you to break her own daughter’s heart.” The words are barely a whisper.

He throws his head back and cackles with frightening glee. “Oh no, you misunderstand! Ms. Corcoran is a woman so very tormented by her petty scruples; it’s adorable, really. She fully intended to remain a stranger. But I knew from the jump how foolish that was, so I decided to do you both a favor.”

He pauses, seeming to compose himself, then circles around Rachel and leans in close to her ear. “I saw you sing together, and I know you’ve never felt magic like that, not even with me. You can have the relationship with your mother you’ve always dreamed of, if you just let go of these petty high school grudges.”

Her legs come back to her and she makes a clumsy attempt to run, but he grabs her wrist and effortlessly holds her in place.

"Can’t you see it Rachel? You and me, we’re meant for so much more than small town trophy-hunting. Just picture it: ten years from now, we’ll be laughing about this in a Manhattan apartment, Broadway co-stars of some blockbuster revival - I’m thinking Spring Awakening; I’d make a damn good Melchior.”

“You’re insane,” Rachel mutters, but Jesse isn’t deterred.

“Or maybe I’ll be directing you to your first Tony - I’ll already have one at that point, of course, but those are the breaks. Maybe we’ll even have a kid on the way.”

Rachel feels her breath cut short and the bile starts to rise in her throat, but she still can’t muster a response.

“The point is we can follow each other anywhere. The only difference between you and me is I don’t pretend that the rest of my high school show choir is anything but a blip, a footnote, an anchor threatening to prevent me from realizing my perfect dream, the dream that can be true for both of us if you just let go of your so-called friends. You’ll lose at Regionals next week, but that won’t have to mean anything if you transfer to Carmel with me next year.”

He takes her face in his hands and looks at her with the same burning gaze that swept her off her feet in Between the Sheets so long ago, a gaze she now closes her eyes to avoid.

”Please, Rachel. Choose the bigger picture. Choose me. Don’t tell me you can’t imagine the same future I do.”

She can. And maybe once, when he was only an idea, a face on her wall, she might have pictured Jesse with her.

But now that apartment, on a perfect day in a city she’s never seen, has gotten considerably more crowded.

She can see Kurt beside her in the kitchen, still in their pajamas, making breakfast for all their friends.

She can see Artie and Quinn playing chess on the coffee table, Brittany and Santana cuddling on the couch while Mercedes and Puck try to get them to stop hogging the remote.

She can see Finn pulling a suitcase through the front door as she and Kurt, in perfect unison, shout “Welcome home!”

It’s filled with noise and chaos and so much love.

She doesn’t yet know how they all fit together. And she knows it’s a dream that might not even be possible. But it won’t be because she gives up on it.

She’s Rachel Berry, after all.

She opens her eyes. “I do. But you’re not in it.”

“So,” she grabs his shirt collar, rises up on her toes, and finally stares into his empty eyes.

“Go. To. Hell.”

There’s a flash of darkness across his face, but then it’s gone in an instant and he’s smiling with nothing more than disappointment.

“So be it.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out an egg, twirling it around in his hands. But Rachel will be damned if she’s going to back down now.

“Do it.”

“I loved you.” He doesn’t bother trying to make it sound true. She closes her eyes and prepares for her final humiliation.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Rachel’s skips so many beats she isn’t sure how she remains standing, but she manages to turn around to face the person who cannot possibly be standing in front of the auditorium doors.

“Quinn? What-how-”

Quinn shrugs, as if this is just another coffee run. “Finn got concerned. Kurt had a hunch. You’re lucky your friends know you so well.”

“This doesn’t concern backing vocalists, “ Jesse snarls. “Move along.”

“Actually, it very much does.” Quinn closes the gap between them faster than she should be able to move, and suddenly her arm is pushing Rachel behind her and she’s between Rachel and Jesse. “I’m a member of the New Directions who isn’t a soulless backstabbing sociopath, and that’s my captain you’re messing with. So drop the egg and get the hell out of here while you still can.”

(Rachel’s still frozen in place, but her heart is soaring.)

Jesse grins wickedly, dropping all pretense. “Big talk from a girl who’s in no shape to stop me.”

Quinn laughs with utter contempt. “I don’t need to be able to stop you. I’m a witness, and you made the rookie mistake of sending all yours away. So if you think your precious little Broadway pipe dream can survive a high school expulsion, then by all means, try your luck.”

She steps in closer, and lowers her voice to the register that Rachel has only ever heard when things are about to get deadly. “But only if you’re comfortable assaulting a pregnant girl, because you’re not getting to Rachel.”

The moments of silence that follow seem to stretch forever, which is fine, because Rachel isn’t sure what world she’s living in anymore. Quinn and Jesse’s eyes stay locked on each other, and Rachel balls her fists, because she might have to start swinging if Jesse doesn’t blink.

Jesse blinks. The egg shatters on the pavement.

“You’re gonna regret the day you challenged me, Quinn Fabray.” His eyes burn with fury like Rachel’s never seen as he begins to back away. “We both know how this ends. You’ll be here forever, alone and forgotten, and I’ll have all the time in the world to work on Rachel B-”

“Hey, Jesse?” Quinn interrupts. “Before you crawl back to your spider hole, I just realized we never introduced you to how we deal with losers at McKinley High. ”

And it’s only then that Rachel notices the disposable cup she’s been holding the entire time.

“Think of it as a preview of what’s coming to you at Regionals.”

Jesse’s eyes narrow. “What are you-”

And with a lightning-quick flick of her wrist, Quinn empties the slushie into Jesse’s face.

***

“All right guys, I know we’re in a funk, but we can still win this.”

Finn doesn’t blame his teammates for tuning him out.

“We’re down by 31.” Finn doesn’t even notice who says it amidst the cacophony of the Titans throwing their helmets to the locker room floor in disgust. He figures it’s a universal sentiment. “It’s even worse than when we played them back in September.”

“They’re faster, bigger, stronger.” Dave Karofsky half-heartedly wipes at the turf stains on his jersey. “We can’t hold the point of attack.”

“And even if we did,” Azimio Adams, Karofksy’s partner on the right side of the line pipes up, “Carmel’s linebackers are so fast it won’t matter. We can’t run the ball down by this much even if we wanted to, and every time we pass they just keep sending one more blitzer than we can pick up.”

Finn doesn’t know what to say, but someone else beats him to the punch.

“Look, all I’m hearing is a bunch of excuses. If we let the match-ups on paper dictate our fate, we never would have gotten this far.”

Finn looks up in surprise to see Puck giving him a subtle thumbs up. He grins.

“Puck’s right. The Camels came ready for us, but all that means is we have to adjust the game plan. If they blitz, we’ll beat them with quick screens and timing routes. If they adjust to that, we’ll suck in the safeties and then burn them over the top. We empty the playbook - all the situational football we’ve been practicing, all the trick plays we’ve been keeping under wraps, we leave it all on the field tonight.”

There’s some murmuring and a few sideways glances. His teammates aren’t buying it.

Finn sighs. “Look, I know it’s absurd to think that we could actually win -“

“But it’s no more absurd than turning the tide of a season with a dancing kicker.”

Heads turn on a swivel to where Kurt is leaning against the locker, his arms crossed over his #3 jersey. His eyes widen, but Finn gives him his best encouraging nod and Kurt doesn’t drop the ball.

“Look, I may just have one job on this team. And as much as I find it ridiculous that the state of Ohio thinks this sport needs two whole seasons to itself, I haven’t been running wind sprints and putting on this incredibly awkward helmet all year just to watch us give up. And even though most of you will probably only ever pretend to tolerate me, at least respect yourselves enough to appreciate the opportunity for a dramatic ending. As they say in the only sports movie my dad’s ever forced me to watch all the way through: clear eyes, full hearts-”

“CAN’T LOSE!”

Kurt jumps as Finn and Puck shout the conclusion in unison, but quickly recovers to shoot them both a wry smile.

There’s a stunned silence, but Finn is about as proud of Kurt as he’s ever been of anyone, and there’s no way he’s going to let a moment this beautiful go to waste. “All right everyone, show circle-I mean huddle!”

As his teammates gather around, Finn doesn’t have to fake the confidence in his voice, and he can slowly see it begin to take root in his teammates’ eyes. “You heard the man. No matter what happens, we play the next 30 minutes for each other.”

He looks at his lifelong best friend and his now maybe-kind-of-literal brother, and thinks that even if it’s the end of the road, it’s not a bad way to go out. “TITANS ON 3, 1-2-3”

_“TITANS!”_

As he and Kurt make their way towards the tunnel, he nudges their star kicker.

“Dude, that was awesome, where did that come from?”

Kurt looks just as mystified as he is. “I don’t know. You looked like you could use some help, and it just kind of… came out. I didn’t actually think it was going to work.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t know that Friday Night Lights always works.” As they reach the end of the tunnel, Finn realizes something else.

“Hey listen, what I said about situational football, that means we’re probably gonna need-”

“I know.”

Finn smiles. “Of course you do.” He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. For as much as Kurt pretends to hate the sport, he’s one of the smartest football players Finn’s ever met.

***

Rachel knows the first time she sang with Finn was the moment she stopped hating jocks.

She’s less clear on exactly when she stopped hating cheerleaders.

As she once again finds herself sitting in cold bleachers for the final game of the season - seriously, what kind of depraved society lets any sport go on this long - she can’t help but wonder how her old self would react to this situation.

“LET’S GO TITANS!” She cups her hands to her mouth and projects as far as she can, and she breaks into a grin when Finn waves to her as he and Puck lead their teammates out of the timeline, doing a double take as she notices Kurt matching them stride for stride.

“They’ve really come a long way, haven’t they?” She turns to the girl whose place next to her at these games has become something of an unspoken tradition.

“I mean, they’re getting their asses kicked just the same as always, so not really.” Quinn keeps her eyes trained on the field, but Rachel smiles at the way her lips twitch up ever so slightly.

“Oh come on, you know what I mean.”

Quinn smiles fully at that. “Yeah. I do.”

“Thank you for keeping me company, by the way.” Rachel bites her lip. “Especially after you basically saved my life twice over and definitely don’t need to do me any more favors, like, ever. it really means a lot.”

Quinn shrugs. “It was either come to the game or hang out with Puck’s mom. And you’re actually pretty tolerable when you’ve been taken down a peg. We don’t need to make a big deal out of it.”

Rachel does her best to laugh off the heaviness that settles in her chest. “Of course. We wouldn’t want people to mistake us for friends.”

It’s just as well. It’s not like she wants Quinn spending time with her to be a big deal.

Does she?

“Rachel?”

“Yeah?”

“If there’s one thing this disaster of a year has taught me, it’s to let go of what other people think.” Quinn’s eyes stay on the field, but her hand finds Rachel’s in the dark. “If you want us to be friends, we can be friends.”

The heaviness dissolves, and now Rachel feels like she would float out of her seat if Quinn wasn’t anchoring her to the ground. “I think I’d like that.”

“Oh,” Finally, Quinn turns to her. “Uh, good.” She looks down, and Rachel frowns. Did she really expect her to say no?

“As long as I’m not just the third wheel on your dates with Finn. Or Hummel, for that matter.” She laughs, but Rachel can’t help but notice it sounds kind of sad. “I’ve got enough of that in the Unholy Trinity to last a lifetime.”

“I know you’ve got your friends and I’ve got mine, but we’ve always made time for each other before. This will be like that, only with less, you know… ”

“Trying to murder each other?”

“Exactly.” Rachel bumps Quinn’s shoulder. “We’ll work out a schedule. You hang out with Finn and Kurt on the Monday/Wednesday/Friday shift, and I’ll fourth-wheel with the Unholy Trinity Tuesdays/Thursdays/Saturdays.”

She was mostly joking, but Quinn turns to look Rachel dead in the eyes. “And what about Sundays?”

Rachel looks down to where their hands are still clasped. She doesn’t know how she got here, but she thinks she knows where to go next. “Maybe those can be for us.” She risks meeting Quinn’s eyes again. “You know, if you want.”

Quinn reaches out and absentmindedly tucks a strand of hair behind Rachel’s ear. “I think I’d like that.”

Her face heats up and it feels like her brain is at risk of losing function, so she tries to backtrack to safer ground.

“And hey, don’t worry about fitting in with Kurt. If you’re enough of a softie to admit you actually care about me, the two of you will be trading makeover tips behind my back in no time.”

Quinn scrunches her eyebrows together, and Rachel immediately decides it’s at least the eighth most adorable thing about her. “Shut up, sweetheart.”

(So maybe she keeps a list. For completeness’ sake.)

Quinn starts to say something else, but she's interrupted by the crescendo of a roaring crowd, and Rachel turns back to the field just in time to see Puck shoulder the opponent's kicker to the ground and outrace the rest of the Camels’ kick coverage to the end zone for a touchdown.

She leaps to her feet with the rest of the crowd as Kurt’s extra point makes it 34-10, and glances down at Quinn. “Do you think we actually have a chance?”

Quinn’s eyes are brighter than she’s ever seen them. “I guess we’ll find out.”

***

Kurt never believed they had a chance.

When Puck took the opening kick back, it was a fluke.

When the Carmel quarterback - who Kurt is always kind of surprised is just some random jock and not Jesse St. James - got strip sacked by a pash-rushing Shane Tinsley and Finn converted the turnover into points by diving in from the one yard line on a quarterback sneak, it turned the game into a slightly more respectable but still definitive loss.

But now the Titans have the ball back again thanks to an interception by their senior safety, and even though the offense is pinned back against the shadow of their own goal line and there are only eight minutes left, Kurt can’t help but wonder.

He can feel the electricity in the building, which only ramps up when Finn hits Puck on a perfectly timed screen pass to beat the blitz and Puck weaves all the way to the thirty-eight yard line.

The excitement would be palpable even if Kurt couldn’t hear Rachel shouting at the top of her lungs. Kurt almost wants to yell at her to be quiet - she’s going to throw out her voice doing that - but when he turns around he sees Quinn leaning up to whisper something in her ear. Rachel nods, then sits down and takes a swig from what Kurt is pretty sure is Quinn’s water bottle as the ex-cheer captain takes Rachel’s place in shouting encouragement into the night.

Over the din, he thinks he can make out _“You think this is hard, try performing Brittany’s show choir choreography while carrying a baby, that’s hard!”_

So maybe having Quinn around for the foreseeable future won’t be as unbearable as he once thought.

He sees Puck turn to the stands and give her a mock salute, and then the ball is snapped and he’s blazing downfield, stopping on a dime, catching Finn’s pass and wrestling two defenders to the ground as he falls forward for another five yards.

Another designed screen later, and Puck is racing into the end zone, spiking the ball and slapping Kurt on the helmet as he runs out for his third extra point of the second half.

The motion that has become as automatic as any vocal warmup - step, plant, pivot, followthrough - sends the ball through the uprights dead center, and suddenly it’s 34-24. A two score game, and as Kurt runs through a veritable gauntlet of high fives on his way to the bench, he starts to wonder.

Maybe he’s a believer after all.

***

“Why did you do it, anyway?” There’s a lull in the action as Carmel calls a timeout - and wow, their coach is not happy that this has suddenly turned into an entertaining game - and the tension is just about unbearable. _Is this what sports fans feel like all the time?_

So she distracts herself with the other tension that’s been gnawing at her all day.  
“You had the golden opportunity to just sit back and watch me humiliate myself, so why-”

“Because you would have done the same for me.” Quinn says it with such a quiet certainty that Rachel is genuinely thrown.

“How can you possibly know that?”

Quinn laughs softly. “Because you already have, sweetheart. Or did you think I wouldn’t put two and two together about who bribed JBI just to keep my pregnancy a secret a little longer?”

Rachel frowns. “It didn’t even work, though. You still got kicked off… ”

“And I always would have, which frankly makes it even more insane that you would do something that dark to yourself in order to protect a girl who had done nothing to deserve it.”

Quinn shakes her head. “Trust me, putting some long-overdue Red Dye Number Six in the face of our favorite demon spawn and washing some egg out of your hair was the least I could do.”

Rachel grimaces. “Yeah, I can’t say I wanted one of our formative experiences together to be quite so disgusting, but thank you for that. I don’t think I ever want to look at an egg again in my life.”

Quinn bites her lip. “So that’s a no to Easter at my place?”

And just like that, Rachel’s smiling so hard it hurts. “Ballpark it for me: how many times will I have to remind you I’m Jewish?”

“Probably at least once a year if you want me to remember not to get you anything for Christmas.”

“Oh, well screw that then.”

It’s the kind of banter that they used to exchange all the time as enemies, but there’s something about the way it’s changed now that they’re friends that’s absolutely exhilarating.

As is the fact that she can actually tell, as she and Quinn fall into each other from laughing so hard, that the game they’re ostensibly in the stands to watch has suddenly become one for the ages.

***

It took a while for him to get going, but now that Puck’s in the groove this corner for the Camels doesn’t stand a chance.

But they still have a ways to go to complete this comeback, and his body is running on pure adrenaline to forestall the exhaustion from all the hits he’s taken tonight, so he eschews his normal trash talk in favor of staring the kid down, taking some satisfaction at the nervousness peeking through the facemask.

“54’s the Mike!”

Finn sets the protection, and the corner shifts his weight forward.

“Barbara, Barbara!”

Puck grins. So Finn sees it too.

They’ve had that audible in the book for weeks now, ever since Rachel Berry decided to inflict a certain David Geddes song on the world and make herself synonymous with the concept of running as fast as you can in a straight line.

“HUT!!”

Puck fires off the line with everything he has, getting right to the corner’s outside shoulder.

An entire half of short passes has got the kid anticipating, and when Puck dips his shoulder and throws his head back towards Finn, his cover man plants his foot in the ground and jumps the comeback route of the previous play as Puck keeps running and leaves him in the dust.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the free safety screaming over to meet him, which means the ball is already in the air. But Finn must have looked him off, because he’s a step too slow.

At least, he is once Puck digs within himself and finds that extra gear he discovered for the first time when he thought his friendship with Finn depended on catching a football. This time, he won’t have to dive.

He waits as long as he can, then looks up and extends his hands to the sky right as Finn’s perfect pass drops softly between them, the diving Carmel safety merely a ghost against the back of his jersey as he breaks across the goal line.

He turns around and is immediately knocked to the ground by Finn’s bear hug.

“You did it bro! That was the best one we’ve ever done!”

He knows he has to get up and get off the sideline before they get flagged for delay of game, but he spares a moment to grip the back of Finn’s jersey as tight as he can.

“Anything for my quarterback.”

As Finn helps him to his feet with the rush of a perfect throw in his eyes, Puck glances over to the Carmel sideline, which has quickly fallen into disarray.

As he and Finn jog to the bench stride for stride, he whispers, “We’ve got ‘em scared. If Kurt pulls it off, it’s over.”

***

Quinn’s lost track of the number of things she was never supposed to care about that she now inexplicably does.

Show choir. Football. And apparently Rachel Berry.

But as she sits in the bleachers and watches Finn and Puck orchestrate what is honestly one of the most incredible things she’s ever seen on a football field, the only thing she can really think about is how Rachel can probably hear how fast her heart is beating while her head rests on Quinn’s shoulder.

She feels more alive than she’s ever felt, but she also knows that her life is about to get exponentially more complicated. Everything she’s ever done to keep herself safe has failed, and now there’s nothing left to do but take the risks she would have once done anything to avoid.

Rachel shivers as a gust of wind blows through, and without thinking Quinn lifts the arm that Rachel has pinned between them to drape it around her shoulder, trying not to think too much about how Rachel immediately shifts closer.

_So much for boxes._

“So how are you and Finn?”

Rachel frowns. “We’re okay, I think. I told him I wanted him for the duet before I even found out about Jesse, and then turned into a blubbering mess against his shoulder once I did. So I’ve lost most of my dignity and I owe him a new plaid shirt, but I think we'll be fine.”

Quinn smiles. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.” She was prepared to lie, but with the way Rachel talks about Finn sounding so much like the way she talks about Puck these days, Quinn wonders if she even has to.

Because Rachel absolutely deserves a best bro like Finn Hudson.

And if their utter lack of romantic interest in each other just makes her life that much harder, then Quinn is starting to come around to the idea that maybe she could live with that.

On the field, Kurt is ready to kick off, and Quinn knows exactly what needs to happen as much as she knows how there’s no way it’s actually going to work. But Rachel is sitting up in anticipation, so she figures she’ll help draw out the suspense a little longer.

“It all comes down to this, Rachel. We’ve got one shot.”

***

_“Alright man, you got this. Just like in practice.”_

Kurt keeps replaying Finn’s words in his head as he stares at the ball perched on his tee at the thirty five yard line and the boys on his kick coverage unit line up behind him. But there’s no pep talk in the world that’s going to make this onside kick more than astronomically unlikely to succeed.

It’s not like a field goal, where as long as his form is perfect the ball will go exactly where he wants it. This technique is more like trying to control a butterfly effect. He has to hit it with enough pace to get it at least ten yards down the field, but not so much that it falls safely into the arms of the Camels’ hands team before his team has a chance to get to it. If he and his teammates aren’t perfectly in sync, they have no chance.

And even if they are, it’s still a coin toss at best as to who will come down with it in the ensuing scrum, assuming it isn’t just knocked out of bounds, which will clinch their defeat as surely as a Carmel recovery.

Coach has been running this with him for months, and he’s not nearly as bad at it as he once was. He knows he can put it in play. But that’s where the certainty ends. Whether McKinley can still win this game is riding on pure hope.

He locks eyes with Rachel in the stands, who’s gone silent with anticipation, clutching Quinn’s arm as Quinn’s other hand palms her rosary.

He turns to the far sideline to look at Finn, who gives him one more resolute nod.

And then he turns to Puck, in his two point stance on the far hashmark, and he knows he’s as ready for this as he’s ever going to be. He raises his arm as the referee blows the whistle.

He takes two quick steps forward, swings his hips to the side, and kicks the top half of the football into the ground.

His bounce is perfect.

The ball summersaults for five yards and then skips high into the air, soaring above the front-line blockers who suge forward to try to hold back the Titans speeding to the ball with everything they have. They set their blocks, and the wall almost holds.

But when one of their linemen tries to seal off Puck, all he gets is a feeble hand on his shoulder as Puck blazes by him, tracking the high arc of the ball as he barrels towards the Carmel wideout who’s racing toward the same target.

They both leave their feet, and Kurt could swear time is at a stand still because he’s still frozen in his followthrough. The Camels’ player reaches his hands out to end the season.

And then Puck slams into him, boxing him out in midair, and snatches the ball into his chest. The Camels pile on him as he hits the ground, trying desperately to tear the ball away, but the referee has already blown the whistle and awarded the ball to the Titans.

The ball is at midfield. 17 seconds left, one time out. All details he would have been happily oblivious to mere months ago. But he’s long past the need for compartmentalization. He’s a football player now. And he might have just won them a state championship.

He sees Finn read the defense before the snap and anticipates the adjustments he makes. He knows to watch Puck, who the Camels haven’t had an answer for all game, and sure enough his one time tormentor turned friend screams across the field on a drag route - or a dig route, Kurt chuckles to himself - clears the dropping middle linebacker, and turns to tuck the pass that’s already arrived perfectly in-stride between his jersey numbers, outracing the trailing corner and barreling into the safety before rolling into the turf at the 20 yard line, springing up and calling their last timeout with nine seconds left.

A 38 yard field goal. An absolute chip shot to send it to overtime, where Kurt has no doubt of the outcome. His dad has made him watch more than enough sports movies to be able to know how a story like this ends, even if he was only half paying attention to most of them.

Though if Finn and Puck have their way it might not even come to that, because there’s time for one more shot at the end zone.

As they break the huddle though, the Camels seem to find one last burst of creativity, as suddenly their defensive backfield collectively backpedals toward the goal line and shifts to the right whereas Puck sets up on the left.

Finn immediately makes the call. “Barbara, Barbara!”

“No, don’t it’s a bluff,” Kurt mutters, but the ball is already snapped, and Puck finds himself jammed at the line and smothered over the top by the rangy free safety who immediately reverses field and makes a beeline for the double team. With a pass rusher nipping at his heels, Finn’s pass sails harmlessly out of the back of the end zone.

Kurt releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. _It’s fine. Finn didn’t take a sack. Now comes the easy part._ He pulls on his helmet and gets ready to give the Titans’ season another fifteen minutes.

He’s just fastening his second chin strap when he sees the yellow penalty flag.

He’s never had a good grasp of all the ways you can break rules in football, but he’s seen enough flags thrown at Finn’s feet on passing plays to know that his job just got a lot harder, even before the referee makes the announcement.

_“Holding, offense, Number 67. 10 yard penalty, still second down._

“Dammit Karofsky.” Kurt looks up to see three seconds left on the clock, and then Coach Shannon is smacking him on the helmet and sending him out on the field with a jubilant _“Do what you do, Hummel!”_

He tries to ignore the knot at the pit of his stomach. It’s no big deal, this is still well within his range. All that changes is the box score.

And as he makes his way to the formation, though, Karofsky is suddenly by his side. “You gotta make this, Hummel.”

Kurt sighs. “Don’t get your jockstrap in a bunch dude, what’s done is done. And of course I’m gonna make it.” It’s an utterly obnoxious brand of bravado, but Kurt’s learned by now it’s the only way to talk to these people.

He feels a tight grip as Karofsky grabs his arm, and okay, this is definitely off. He doesn’t look guilty, he looks scared.

“No, seriously. You have to. For both our sakes.”

Kurt shrugs him off. “You do your job, I’ll do mine. We’re gonna be fine.”

Thankfully that’s all he has time for, as the referee blows the whistle to signal ready for play.

Kurt takes a deep breath, thinking all the way back to his first Single Ladies-fueled field goal and everything he’s learned since.

_Far hash mark. Angled to the right, 48 yard attempt, no need to line drive it. Wind has picked up going west to east, so if I kick this straight on, it should hook right down the middle._

His blockers assume their stances as Kurt makes three paces back and two to the side.

Simple physics, as routine as hitting a High F. And this time, he’s not throwing any competition.

He raises his arm.

The ball is snapped.

And with one fluid motion, he takes two steps towards his target, swings his right leg around the fulcrum of his hips, and launches the ball into the night sky.

He realizes his mistake the moment he makes contact. The conditions are never set until the moment the ball leaves the ground, and as he brings his leg up on the followthrough he stares in horror at the motionless American flag behind the end zone. What had been a windy night moments ago has suddenly gone still.

“No, no, no!” He mutters, but it’s out of his hands now.

But then, as if an answered prayer: a resurgent gust of wind sweeps across the field. The ball starts to curve sharply to the right.

“C’mon, hook.” There should be just enough time. “Hook.” Almost there. “HOOK!”

_CLANG_

The ball hits squarely off the left upright and hangs in the air, and in that moment of suspense Kurt can see Rachel gasping in horror, Quinn utterly stoic, and Finn and Puck tensing on the sideline, knowing what awaits all of them.

The ball falls harmlessly to the turf. They’ve lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: The next episode, aka the last episode, will mostly be written by Oliver but will also be heavily contributed to by all of us. With that in mind, it might take a while for us to get it up.


	22. Journey To Regionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's what you missed on Glee: It turned out that Jesse really was a spy for Vocal Adrenaline the whole time, and he betrayed Rachel by egging her and leaving the New Directions with one less talented member. Brittany and Santana won Cheer Nationals and all of the Glee Club members that were also in the Cheerios quit to focus on winning Regionals. Oh, and the Titans lost the most important game of their season. And it might have been entirely Kurt's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last episode of season one and the last chapter of this fic. With the state of the Glee Club in peril, it all comes down to this.
> 
> Chapter (primarily) written by - Oliver / upsettos  
> Cowritten by - Cecelia / TheRealRyanMurphey  
> Micah / madeofmemories

Mercedes has relegated herself to a life of da-da-da’s with maybe a couple of showy high notes at the end for the rest of her career as long as Rachel Berry is involved. It’s annoying and unfair; even if Rachel ‘gave up’ her solo for Regionals, she still just decided that it would be replaced with a duet between herself and Finn without consulting anyone else in the club.

Mercedes knows that Finn really does deserve this, and her voice just wouldn’t work well with his, but it’s still irritating that she’s once again been passed up for a solo in favor of the skinny white girl. Everyone in this room knows that her voice is just as good as Rachel’s with the possible exception of Mr. Schue yet she’ll probably never get the recognition she deserves for it.

Even with her lead in _Don’t Stop Believin’_ Rachel still isn’t satisfied. “It’s just not quite good enough,” she keeps repeating over and over. They really can’t be making this many changes to their closing number this close to the competition if they want to have any chance of winning this thing, but here they are, trying their fifth harmony of the day in an attempt to get the arrangement up to Her Highness’ standards.

Finn, astonishingly, is the one that finally snaps. “Rachel, this isn’t how we’re going to pull together as a group. You can’t keep criticizing if you’re not going to offer any real solutions. You wanted to be our leader, so lead. Motivate us. You keep saying this is a nine. How do we make it a ten?”

And then Rachel says the last thing Mercedes ever would have expected to come out of her mouth. “Mercedes.”

Mercedes exaggeratedly looks around. Leave it to her to look a gift horse in the mouth, but there is no way in hell Rachel Berry just offered to give her the lead in _Don’t Stop Believin’_ of all songs. “Me?” she asks, pointing at her herself.

Rachel rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t relent. “Not just you. All of you. We need to showcase all of our talents. Any choir can find one lead vocalist to base their entire set list around. I think I need to take a step back for this one. You and Artie should lead the pre-chorus.” She turns to face Santana. “You and Puck should lead the verses. Your voices work just as well together as mine and Finn’s, and neither of you have had a major solo in a competition before.”

Mr. Schue has the gall to actually look upset by this. “Rachel, you’ve worked so hard on this piece. Are you sure you don’t want any solos?”

“Well, of course I still want something. I was just thinking maybe Finn and I could keep the first verse before handing it over?” The fact that she phrases it like a question throws Mercedes for a loop. Since when has Rachel Berry ever asked permission for anything she wanted in this world? “Although, I think Kurt should take my place for the first half of the third verse with Finn. It’s a great harmony, and Finn really does nail it every time.”

Kurt looks at her with the beginnings of a smile on his face. “You realize you'll be giving a lead to a countertenor."

Rachel just beams with a striking amount of conviction as she responds, "And a damn good one."

Something about the way Kurt’s face completely lights up at that has Mercedes blurting, “What if you and Finn took the first pre-chorus too? That leaves the distribution of parts relatively even between all of us.”

Rachel’s eyes light up and she runs to the piano to grab a stack of sheet music. “Okay, guys. We don’t have nearly enough time to rearrange and rehearse this whole song. Let’s get to work.”

***

Santana has butterflies. Santana is a cheer nationals champion; she is a universally recognized and self-proclaimed bitch. Santana doesn’t get butterflies. Yet, standing in the green room, listening as the announcer begins to introduce the celebrity judges, her stomach is in knots.

“...an international musical sensation,” crackles the tiny speaker set up next to the grainy monitor in the corner, “a platinum recording artist 20 times over, the inimitable Mr. Josh Groban!” That’s no surprise considering what Rachel’s mom had let slip a week or so ago, but it is reassuring to know she hadn’t been lying. “She’s a four-time Grammy winner who starred in the highest-grossing movie musical of all time, Ms. Olivia Newton-John!”

She closes her eyes and focuses on keeping her breathing even as Sue Sylvester is revealed to be the third celebrity judge. She had already known this was coming; Sue had come marching into one of their rehearsals earlier this week to gloat to Schuester about it. Somehow she managed to get the Show Choir Committee to swap her in at the last minute, replacing some local news anchor.

Aural Intensity is introduced as the first act, and Mercedes groans as the folksy violin music begins to play. “You’ve got to be kidding me. They’re really doing _You Raise Me Up?_ Isn’t that against some kind of rule?” They all look to Schuester who just shrugs his shoulders with a helpless look on his face.

“It’s fine, Mercedes. The judges will obviously recognize that as the blatant pandering that it is,” Rachel tries. Santana can read the lie in every word.

“You’d better be right, Berry. We cannot afford to lose this thing.” Santana knows she’s being unfair, but isn’t that just how she always is with Rachel? Santana’s not so sure anymore, and she doesn’t know how she feels about that.

No one is surprised when the last note of _You Raise Me Up_ fades out and is immediately replaced by the intro to _Magic._ Santana doesn’t even have the vindication of saying that their renditions are worse than the originals; she just has to hope that the judges disagree.

She takes one last look around as they’re called into the wings to line up for their entrance. Finn and Rachel walk one way towards the front of house while everyone else breaks into pairs to find their respective section of the wings to enter from. Santana and Brittany stand side by side as they watch Aural Intensity make their way through their third number.

“Do you ever think about how we got here?”

“All the time,” she says, turning to face her. Quinn was put in charge of their make-up and Santana is a little overwhelmed by what a damn good job she did. Brittany’s never looked better. “Sometimes I’ll black out and remember the world between reincarnations. It’s so colorful.” She smiles at that, a little distant-looking. “Why do you ask.”

Santana searches for the right words, but she’s never been the best at articulating her emotions. “I just meant, we started this whole thing because Coach Sylvester wanted us to take the Glee Club down. What changed?”

Brittany’s smile widens impossibly. “You care, Santana. Your loyalty is hard to win, but not impossible. You give your all to the people you care about, and that’s why you want to win today.”

“But why? When did that happen?” Santana looks down at her feet, embarrassed. Maybe it’s unfair of her to expect all of the answers from Brittany right here and right now, but Britt’s always had a way of reading people that Santana can’t even begin to match. She’s grateful and frustrated that it’s come to the point where she feels like Brittany knows who she is more than herself sometimes.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’ve always cared,” Brittany tries. “You had fun going around those other schools with Artie and the guys, even if you only did it to sabotage the club. And I know your smile from when we won Sectionals wasn’t fake.”

“What about you though? What changed your mind about all of this?” For some reason, Santana doesn’t think she wants to know the answer to that question, but it’s out of her mouth now.

Brittany doesn’t even seem to need to stop to think for a second before giggling, “You, silly.” Santana looks up sharply. Her knees feel weak, and her world is tilting a little, but she forces herself to remain upright, for the sake of her own dignity. “I joined the Cheerios for you and Quinn, and then I joined Glee because Coach Sylvester wanted us to and you wanted to please her. But you obviously care a lot about this club, or you would have quit when we quit the Cheerios. So here I am.”

Santana feels the smile coming before it even reaches her lips. “It’s really that simple for you, isn’t it?” No scheming, no clawing desperately to get ahead. Just love, pure and sweet.

“Teaching my own choreography is really, really fun,” she adds with a little bob of her head. Normally it would make her ponytail swing around onto her shoulder, but with her hair down and tucked away with a headband, it just sways around her face. A few strands fall into her right eye and Santana reaches out to brush it back. She keeps her hand there for a moment, running her fingers through gentle sandy waves. Brittany whispers a thank you into the space between them and Santana pulls her hand back, but she doesn’t step away.

“Ladies and Gentleman, our second competitors, winner of the Central Ohio Sectional, McKinley High’s New Directions!” comes a booming voice from the other side of the curtain. Brittany turns to look over her shoulder at the stage and the urge to give her a kiss on the cheek, something Brittany gave her right before they went on at Cheer Nationals, nearly overwhelms Santana. She leans in, not noticing that Brittany’s head is swiveling back around until she feels their lips press against each other.

And then it’s over and Santana has to run on stage before the curtain comes up. Her mind is racing a mile a minute but she has no time to think about that. No time to look at Brittany to see if she’s just as shell-shocked as she is, because if she turns back, she won’t be able to perform.

She has no idea what the fallout is going to be but that’s something future Santana will have to deal with. She has a competition to win.

***

Rachel looks back over her shoulder to see Kurt disappearing into the backstage door before she rounds the corner to the house doors. She looks over at Finn who’s been by her side this whole time, through all of her horrible decisions and dramatic overtures. She feels something hot ballooning in her chest and pushing at her ribs. At the same time, it feels like all of her nerve endings are focused on one tiny pinprick of light in the empty cavity of her chest. “Break a leg,” she offers with a smile that she hopes isn’t as shaky as it feels.

Finn looks back at her for a beat with his signature vacant expression that Rachel can never quite decipher before blurting, “I love you.”

And Rachel’s brain really must shut off completely in that moment because the only thing that comes out of her mouth is, “I know.” She cringes and hastily tries to self-correct. “I’m sorry I don’t know why I said that, I love you too.”

She grimaces, hoping she didn’t just ruin her chances with the guy that she’s been falling for all year, but Finn, grinning like a cheshire, just says “Dude, that was a Star Wars reference, don’t apologize.”

The announcement introducing their team and cueing the booth techs plays through the doors and Rachel envelops Finn in a hug. “Let’s kick some ass,” she whispers before running over to the house right door for her entrance.

_“Highway run into the midnight sun_  
_Wheels go round and round, you're on my mind”_

She pushes the door open at her cue and immediately looks left to lock eyes with Finn across the aisle.

_“Restless hearts sleep alone tonight_  
_Sending all my love along the wire”_

Countless rehearsals and a dubiously obtained set of blueprints for the Westvale High School auditorium have perfected their timing so that they arrive at the aisle separating the orchestra from the dress circle just in time for the chorus.

_“They say that the road ain't no place to start a family_  
_Right down the line it's been you and me_  
_And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be”_

They head towards each other, circling in the center before continuing their way to the stage. Rachel turns back to him as she reaches the steps signing with everything she has, _“Oh, boy, you stand by me.”_

Finn looks at her with so much genuine emotion, and she knows she means every word as the both slip into a much softer voice, singing, _“I'm forever yours, faithfully.”_

They both slip into a playful jog to meet center stage as the musical interlude kicks in and the curtains come up to reveal the rest of the New Directions harmonizing flawlessly behind them. Rachel puts everything she has into belting out another _“faithfully”,_ body folding slightly with the effort.

Unlike when they first started and Rachel had to take the lead on all of the high belts in Don’t Stop Believin’ Finn is there to match her note for note as he responds with his own _“I’m still yours.”_

They’re absolutely soaring together and Rachel feels dizzy with the power and exhilaration of it. This is infinitely better than Sectionals. This is Finn, who loves her, and who she loves, and this is her family.

_“I’m still yours..._  
_Faithfully”_

***

Finn is still panting with exertion as the audience screams, but he grabs Rachel’s hand and they run upstage to stand next to Lauren and Mercedes for the start of their next number. They rip right into the chorus, each whipping their heads to the side.

_“Any way you want it_  
_That's the way you need it_  
_Any way you want it”_

He, Kurt, Puck, Lauren, and Quinn take the lead on the first verse, leaving the second to the rest of the girls. His voice goes surprisingly well with Kurt’s harmonies as the other three bop their way through the accompanying guitar riffs.

_“She loves to laugh_  
_She loves to sing_  
_She does everything_  
_She loves to move_  
_She loves to groove_  
_She loves the lovin' things”_

They all spin and run back upstage as Rachel, Mercedes, Artie, Brittany, and Santana come forward. He was a little disappointed when he first found out he wasn’t getting this verse, but the five of them sound phenomenal.

_“It won't be long, yeah, 'til you're alone_  
_When your lover, oh, he hasn't come home, ooh_  
_'Cause he's loving, (loving), he's touching (touching)_  
_He's squeezing another”_

They run through the chorus again twice, Mercedes’ “ _another”_ still ringing high throughout. Finn thinks back to his favorite of his mom’s boyfriends growing up. When Darren would come by, they would always rock out to classic rock together, but _Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’_ was their favorite by far. Even after Darren ran off with some blonde from Westerville, Finn would still find himself humming the tune while taking out the trash or mowing the lawn. He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Puck steps forward for his solo.

_“I was alone_  
_I never knew_  
_What good love could do”_

Mr. Schue had been dead set on _Any Way You Want It_ as their big dance number before Puck had insisted that they do a mash-up instead of picking just one. He thinks he actually likes this version better; it’s more upbeat, and it’s something he, Kurt, and Rachel worked together to arrange. Puck steps back as Finn and Rachel run forward again grinning at each other through their lines as they take their place center stage.

_“Then we touched_  
_Then we sang_  
_About the loving things_  
_'Cause he's loving (loving), he's touching (touching)_  
_He's squeezing another”_

They break into another two run-throughs of the chorus, running and jumping around the stage as they go, and Finn has never been more thankful for the endless weeks of wind sprints Coach Shannon put him through. After that is a series of na-na-na’s followed by a musical interlude. He runs to the back of the group as Brittany, Santana, Kurt, and Mercedes pull off some complicated dance stunt that combines a lot of the routines they apparently learned from the Cheerios. With one last burst of lines they all turn to face upstage as the crowd goes wild behind them.

***

Kurt spins around and he can barely get the notes out, he’s beaming too much. Still, he knows this song better than any other. He could sing these da-da-da’s in his sleep. Finn is the last one to turn, and his voice is rough but bright and powerful.

_“Just a small-town girl_  
_Livin' in a lonely world_  
_She took the midnight train goin' anywhere”_

Rachel steps forward as her voice rings out, but unlike in their first renditions, she’s clearly not trying to overpower Finn by showing off. She’s matching him with a duck of her head that portrays a sense of humility Kurt reads as decidedly less false than anything she could have achieved just a few short months ago.

_“Just a city boy_  
_Born and raised in South Detroit_  
_He took the midnight train goin' anywhere”_

They’re all clapping their hands against their thighs or tapping their feet to the rhythm as they rearrange themselves into rows. As he makes his way up from the back Puck’s _“A singer in a smoky room”_ is followed seamlessly by Santana’s _“The smell of wine and cheap perfume.”_ They dance around each other, never breaking eye contact as they sing the rest of the verse together.

_“For a smile, they can share the night_  
_It goes on and on and on and on”_

Finn and Rachel emerge from opposite sides of the grid meeting back to back and joining hands. It isn’t the most exciting choreography, but with all of the last minute changes, and Finn’s still shaky grasp on basic steps it’s not bad. The incredible vocals are the real star.

_“Strangers waitin'_  
_Up and down the boulevard_  
_Their shadows searchin' in the night_  
_Streetlight people_  
_Livin' just to find emotion_  
_Hidin' somewhere in the night”_

Rachel moves back, giving up her spot at Finn’s side so Kurt can come forward.

_“Workin' hard to get my fill._  
_Everybody wants a thrill.”_

He and Finn face each other walking backwards as they harmonize the next line. _“Payin' anything to roll the dice just one more time.”_ He thinks, ironically, that that really is what they’re doing with their newfound quasi-friendship. It’s got shaky foundations, but now that they’re finally on the same page, they might actually be able to make some considerable progress.

He and Finn bow out as Santana and Puck take the lead again, swapping lines and harmonies flawlessly with a chemistry he never would have thought possible from two people so diametrically opposed.

_“Some will win, some will lose”_  
_“Some are born to sing the blues”_

Mercedes absolutely blows the audience away with the next few lines, and Artie’s energy is contagious as she spins and flys across the stage.

_“Oh, the movie never ends_  
_It goes on and on and on and on”_

They shimmy playfully with a chemistry that can only come from years of friendship as they take the pre-chorus with a triumphant blaze.

_“Strangers waitin'_  
_Up and down the boulevard_  
_Their shadows searchin' in the night_  
_Streetlight people_  
_Livin' just to find emotion_  
_Hidin' somewhere in the night”_

They lock arms and spin around fast enough for Artie to go up on one wheel as they hold the final note. The audience is on their feet screaming as they slow to a stop. Mercedes’ voice reaches new heights as they switch keys. and they form another line for the final chorus sung in five part harmony.

_“Don't stop believin'_  
_Hold on to that feeling_  
_Streetlight people_  
_Don't stop!”_

Their heads all snap down as the lighting switches to a dramatic warm tone and the standing ovation plays itself out before exiting stage right.

The Vocal Adrenaline kids are waiting for them, swamped in shadows, and Kurt locks eyes with Jesse. He, Finn, and Quinn all move instinctively to form a wall between him and Rachel. The asshole just smirks and winks at Quinn before running on stage as his school is announced.

Kurt has no idea what that’s about but as he turns to ask Quinn about it she lets out a cry of pain and doubles in on herself. He and Finn just barely manage to catch her and get her through the double doors into a chair in the hallway.

Rachel is kneeling beside her in an instant. “Quinn! What is it? Is something wrong with the baby?”

Quinn just stares at Rachel with a faraway look in her eyes before whispering, “I think my water just broke.”

Kurt’s mind is reeling as he tries frantically to do the math in his head, but he can’t get the numbers right. “Isn’t it, like, way too early for that?” Quinn just stares up at him, her eyes not quite managing to focus on his face.

Just as quickly as she arrived, Rachel is gone, dragging a frightened-looking Mr. Schue over to them. “Rachel, what’s wrong? You guys were great; I’m sure we’ll place.”

“I don’t care about placing,” Rachel practically shouts, leaving Kurt shell-shocked. “We need to get Quinn to a hospital. Right now.”

Mr. Schue’s face pales, and if this were any other situation, the look on his face would be hilarious. As it stands, Kurt is probably just as pale. “Okay. Okay, okay okay.” He runs a hand down the side of his face. “You guys need to stay on the premises if you don’t want to be disqualified.”

“I can't stay, it doesn't matter, I have to go with her,” Rachel practically stomps her foot, she’s so adamant. As touching as her near-hysteria is, it really isn’t helpful.

Quinn tries placating Rachel, saying it’s fine if they need to stay, but she’s quickly drowned out as Puck, Finn, Santana, Brittany, even Mercedes and Artie insist on going with her. Kurt does a quick survey of the group, looking for Lauren, but she’s disappeared entirely. “What if only one of us stays?” he asks. Mr. Schue looks doubtful, but he nods and says that technically that shouldn’t disqualify them. Rachel stares at him with those huge, unbelieving eyes, but he just smiles softly. “Go. I'll hold it down."

Without another word, Rachel is sprinting down the hallway, way faster than she should be able to in her heels. She catches up to where Finn and Puck are already helping her out to the parking lot. Kurt loops around the other way so he can take his place in the seats reserved for the groups that aren’t currently performing.

While he obviously isn’t surprised by their choice to open with _Bohemian Rhapsody,_ he is a little disappointed. It’s such a cliche and it’s not even a good show choir song. Still, Jesse’s vocals are annoyingly good, and the choreography is absolutely astounding. Especially when so much of the New Directions’ choreography was just switching places and last minute cobbled together steps.

By the time the song ends, and Jesse’s _“Any way the wind blows,”_ fades into nothingness, the ensemble is panting. Jesse, weirdly, or maybe not considering it’s Jesse, doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat. He looks out into the audience, clearly seeking out the New Directions to gloat, but all he finds is Kurt, surrounded by two rows of empty seats. His face falls. He may impress the judges with his flashy choreo and cliche set but Rachel didn’t even care enough to watch. Kurt knows there’s no way Jesse can see his face, but he smirks anyway.

***

Quinn is going to die if she has to sit in this shitty waiting room for much longer. As it turns out, giving birth takes a long ass time. Who would’ve thought? They have her in a bed in what essentially amounts to a big waiting room until she starts crowning. She’s basically been stuck with excruciating pain every few minutes for almost an hour when her mom of all people comes bursting through the door.

“Quinney?”

“Mom?” Quinn barely manages to get the word out. “What are you doing here?”

“Quinney, I’m your mom. They called me when you were admitted.” She takes a step forward, but then stops, staring at the small army of teenagers currently glaring her down. ”I came to hear you sing. You were wonderful.”

Quinn almost feels a spark of hope. “Daddy?” she asks before her body is racked with pain and she lets out a small cry.

Her mom is on her in an instant, grabbing her hand and instructing her to breathe as she rhythmically tightens and relaxes her grip. When it’s over, she takes a step back again, ducking her head. “I left your father, or kicked him out, I guess. Quinney, I want you to come home with me. I know I wasn’t there for you, but I want to do better by you, and I know now that letting him do that to you was the single worst mistake of my life.”

Quinn is shocked. She always knew her mom loved her, but she also knew that her mom didn’t love her enough to ever actually stand up for her. “What changed your mind?” she manages.

“You’re my baby girl, Quinney,” she says as if this is new information. “And now you’re gonna have a baby of your own. I wasn’t going to let you do that alone. It just took me a while to build up the courage. But, I have a job now and everything. I don’t need him anymore. I just need you.”

Quinn can’t handle this right now. She can’t handle all of the emotions swirling inside her while she’s literally going into labor. Another spike of pain runs through her, and everything goes white as her muscles seize. An attending nurse announces that it’s time to move to a delivery room and that only one person can accompany her.

Quinn’s eyes rove frantically around the room. Her mother is absolutely not manageable, and her mind goes immediately to Puck. She looks at him, but he must be reading her thoughts because he just shakes his head and tells her to take who she wants. There’s Brittany and Santana but she can’t choose just one, and she doesn't want to associate this painful memory with her oldest friends. Her eyes catch on Rachel and she instinctively calls out her name. Rachel’s face is frozen with shock for a second, but then she’s at Quinn’s side as her bed is rolled down the hall to the delivery room everything kind of turns into a blurry haze.

She can’t really register much beyond the unbearable pain ripping the lower half of her body to shreds. There’s Rachel’s face hovering over hers, and a hand in hers that she holds onto for dear life and a doctor cooing empty words of encouragement as she demands that Quinn push and push and push and she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.

At some point she just starts screaming, “You suck, you suck, you suck!” She has no idea who she’s talking to but Rachel’s hand is there so she just keeps squeezing through the pain. And then it’s over. She hears a baby screaming and she slumps back onto the sheets and refuses to open her eyes to look.

***

Puck can’t believe they lost. Is it wrong that his kid was just born and he’s focused on show choir? Beth is strong for a baby that came in at just under four pounds. The doctors say she’ll be fine, and should catch up within a couple months or so.

Kurt and Lauren showed up a little after Quinn was rushed into the delivery room, and the rest of them were herded out of the maternity ward and into a generic waiting room. Now, as he’s standing looking into the nursery, Lauren sidles up next to him. “Which one is yours?”

Puck points her out then slides his eyes over to her. “Where were you?”

“I hauled ass back to the green room after we got off stage. Couldn’t stand being in that poofy dress for one more second. When I came back out everyone was gone, so I just sat and chilled until Kurt showed up and we caught a cab to the hospital.”

Puck snorts at the thought of Kurt and Lauren sharing a cab. Have they ever even had a conversation before? “Don’t take it the wrong way, but why are you even here?”

“You’re lucky I don’t give a shit about your opinion of me, because there’s really only one way to take that,” she says, punching his shoulder a lot harder than he thinks is strictly necessary. “But what was I gonna do? Sit at Westvale by myself hoping one of you eventually remembers I’m a part of this club and turns the bus around to come pick me up?”

“That’s fair,” Puck replies with a wry grin, “but I meant, why are you here standing next to me?”

“I don't know man, I just think it's kind of wild how much you care about all these losers when you make about as much sense as part of a show choir as I do. I figured I’d come bother you about that instead of sitting around the waiting room reading magazines from 2009."

Puck actually pauses for a minute. His first instinct is to just brush it off as something he’s doing for Finn or Quinn, but then he thinks about sneaking around that Catholic school with Santana and Artie and going with Kurt to that show choir AA rip-off and his duet with Mercedes that actually sounded good somehow. “I don’t know man,” Puck echoes, and then jumps out of the way of the elbow headed straight for his rib cage. “I don’t really know when I started to give a shit, I just kind of did. Like, the singing was always way more fun than I wanted to admit, but I guess it’s hard to spend so much time embroiled in all that drama without getting attached.”

“Wouldn’t know. I stay the hell away from all that. Speaking of,” she adds with a pointed look to his right, “that’s my cue to leave.”

Puck follows her gaze and sees Shelby Corcoran of all people approaching him. “I heard you’re giving her up for adoption?”

“That’s forward coming from a woman I’ve literally never spoken to.” Shelby gives him a flat look and he sighs. “Yeah. But we named her. Beth.” He doesn’t know why he added that last bit, but he figures if he’s only going to give this kid one thing in life, he may as well take pride in it.

“Beth,” Shelby whispers. “I like it. Can I talk to you and Quinn?”

Puck doesn’t know what’s up, but Berry is bound to be with Quinn, and he trusts her to handle whatever this is. Quinn is lying in the bed of the recovery room, laughing at something Rachel just said when they walk in. Their shoulders tense when they see Shelby, and Puck thinks this maybe wasn’t so great of an idea after all.

He’s sure this was a bad idea when Shelby tells them she wants to adopt Beth. It all feels way too circular for him to keep up with, but he at least has the good sense to know this isn’t his fight. Rachel and Quinn stare at each other for a minute before Rachel looks back up at her mom.

“I'm glad I met you, I really am. But I know now that I don't need you.” She takes Quinn’s hand and Puck has the acute feeling that he’s witnessing something intimately private in that little gesture. “I have more than enough family."

Shelby nods, not looking upset so much as resigned. Quinn stares her down for a few seconds before setting her jaw in that way Puck used to hate because he knew it meant the conversation was over. "Beth is your second chance. Don't you dare screw this up."

***

Brittany stops outside of Coach Sylvester’s office when she hears her reading her diary out loud again. “Those ignorant, spoiled, wanna-be children wouldn’t know good music if it slapped them in the face. They couldn’t even begin to fathom the lengths I go to on a daily basis for the good of education. These leather pants wearing has-beens and their idiotic little fiddle tunes should learn what it is to actually budget their way through a historically unprecedented mishandling of government funds by hapless bleeding-heart do-gooders. I’ll have my contacts in the world of exotic pets on them in an instant. I can’t wait to see the headlines when their pathetic mauled bodies are found ripped to shreds in their homes.”

“You know, Coach, threatening minors like that isn’t something you want to be creating physical evidence of.”

Coach looks up from her journal with a scoff. “What makes you think you or anyone in your little club has done a single thing worthy of the kind of money it takes to bribe tiger breeders?”

Brittany just shrugs. She never really understood why anyone would hate the Glee Club to begin with. “Who were you talking about then?”

“I don’t learn people’s names. You know that, Starfire. Olympia Nelson-Joan and Joe Gordon, or something like that. I refuse to give them the satisfaction of bolstering their fame by referring to them by either their names or any of their notable characteristics.”

Brittany tips her head to the side, considering. “You know, I didn’t know if my hypothesis was right at first, but you voted for the New Directions didn’t you?” Sue’s face goes blank, but Brittany always knew her ex-coach had a secret soft spot, even if she is just a big bully most of the time. “You don’t need to tell me. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone else. I know you want everyone to hate you for some reason.”

Brittany gets up to leave, but Sue calls her back. “Tell Schuester he’s got his next season of Glee Club,” she says with a sneer that’s almost believable. “Make up one of your ridiculous stories for how you got it out of Figgins and stay the hell out of my office.”

“Yes, Coach.” Brittany says with a bounce as she skips down the hall to her next class. She can’t wait to tell Santana the good news. They haven’t talked since the performance but Brittany feels like she’s floating in a bubble.

***

Lauren laces her sneakers up on the bench of the locker room after a particularly nasty practice. She’s going to have a huge bruise down one thigh, but she’s always liked a challenge. Anyway, it’s not like she’s got rehearsal anymore.

She’s not as surprised as she should be to realize she’s actually going to miss it. As much as her part in that club was basically holding one note the whole time and swaying in the background, she really wasn’t looking for any bigger of a commitment when she joined. She just figured she should have another extracurricular to add to her resume before she sent out her Early Decision application to Harvard in the fall. Granted, she’d been expecting Berry and Hummel to carry them at least to Nationals, but a Sectionals win will have to be good enough.

Not that it really matters; she’s been state champion of her division in wrestling all three years of high school and she’s on track for the spot of valedictorian. Not that it’s particularly competitive in nowhere Ohio, but the Ivies just love padding their socioeconomic diversity stats with kids from places like Lima.

Maybe next year, they’ll make it to Nationals. She has no idea how Brittany managed to convince Figgins to give them another year, but she just keeps saying she got the network to demand they get another shot. Whatever that means.

As ridiculous as all the drama surrounding Puck and his not-girlfriend and the collection of repressed losers he’s decided to be friends with has been, sitting back and watching has been entertaining. Like her own personal prime-time musical dramedy. She might as well come back for her senior year.

***

Artie’s got her favorite red sweater vest on and her guitar sits ready in her lap as Finn starts them off with a falsetto _“Can…”_

The responding _“ ...anybody find me somebody to love?”_ sounds different than it did back in the fall when they all barely knew each other, and half of the relationships within the club were hanging on by a thread.

_“Each morning I get up I die a little_  
_Can barely stand on my feet”_

Kurt’s confident warble is miles away from the shy closeted kid that thought making art might just be worth the target he was putting on his back by joining in on Rachel Berry’s little pet project.

_“Take a look in the mirror and cry_  
_Lord, what you're doing to me”_

Puck smiles at Kurt and Artie can’t believe the one used to throw the other into dumpsters just to escape whatever insecurities he’d built up around himself.

_“I have spent all my years in believing you_  
_But I just can't get no relief, Lord!”_

Artie had never particularly liked Quinn as the popular girl with the perfect life and the never-ending worship from every student and teacher at this school, but as she sits beside her, already back to school after not even two weeks, Artie knows that her life was never the hyper-glamorous dream she’d always made it out to be.

_“Somebody”_

Lauren really was a wild card when she first joined, a desperate attempt to get them a tenth member before Sectionals, but she’s actually seemed to enjoy this, even if she is less attached than everyone else. She at least likes them all enough to stick around for a second year.

_“Somebody”_

Artie still feels a little guilty for tricking Brittany, especially considering how adamant Brittany was that she wanted to help Artie with that music video. She doesn’t think she’s ever met someone more genuinely kind, and unexpectedly wise.

 _“Can anybody find me...”_ Finn and Rachel lead the choir as they build up to Santana’s _“...somebody to love?”_ She smiles at Brittany but ducks her head as soon as their eyes meet, and Artie doesn’t know what’s changed for them since Regionals, but she thinks it’s for the better.

_“Got no feel, I got no rhythm_  
_I just keep losing my beat”_

Artie’s verse is a little ironic considering this was the year she learned how to dance, but she also knows that the growing she’s going to do with these people by her side has only just begun.

_“I'm OK, I'm alright_  
_I ain't gonna face no defeat”_

Mercedes’ vocals are probably unrivaled in this club, and Artie’s just thankful that everyone is finally coming around to realize it because one too many opportunities have passed her up, and Mercedes deserves every single break she can get.

_“I just gotta get out of this prison cell_  
_Some day I'm gonna be free, Lord!”_

Finn and Rachel sing this part together, and Artie thinks it’s fitting considering how the club started. That Rachel chose not to have a solo in their final performance of the year is telling enough on its own of the way she’s grown since that first performance in red.

They all join together for the final lines, more or less ad-libbing the harmonies and riffs, feeding off of each other’s energies and just having fun with it. There’s no one here to see them but Mr. Schue, and the nostalgia trip of them ending the year with the first piece they really did as a group is going to be more than enough to have him in tears by the end.

Artie smiles as Rachel just can’t resist breaking from their final note to riff a little. Maybe they haven’t changed all that much since the fall. Not in the ways that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Thank you guys so much for taking this journey with us. It's not over for us, however, as we intend to continue on to season two. We hope to see you with us.
> 
> And we wanted to give a special thank you to everyone who's commented. They really helped motivate us through the tougher times we've experienced in the last half-year. See you all in a bit when Micah kicks off season two with Audition!

**Author's Note:**

> Our Tumblrs in case you want to send us hate (or love!).
> 
> [Cecelia's Tumblr](https://genderless-consul.tumblr.com/)  
> [Oliver's Tumblr](https://simplelittleword.tumblr.com/)  
> [Micah's Writing Discord Server](https://discord.gg/XrE5Afy)


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